Lessons to the Lion (Story/Historical)

[Bafsk]

“Razsler. Bring in the prisoner,” he said calmly, and the doors opened, without anyone actually needing to bring him, to admit the aforementioned baron obviously the worse for wear and only somewhat mobile, held by two necron warriors, dressed in an unappealing beige coloured pair of trousers and t-shirt, obviously the intention was to make him look less than lordly as they marched him up the aisle.

“Unhand me!” Raszler shouted as he looked over at Syrian with a disgusted expression but as he looked at Palanedhel, his disgust was almost to a physically illness as he retched. “I never thought I’d see the day when Tyrus’s son bows to a thrice accursed knife ears.”

“You never thought we would be here either, given how rapidly you were crushed,” Palanedhel teased, looking at the court more than the prisoner.

“I very well did, I tried my best to expel the foreigner, but I do not think this was enough obviously. He stands here profaning these sacred halls, and the Prince bears no shame for such a travesty.” Raszler said with a smirk at Syrian who grimaced.

“You are very bold, are you not... Raszler was it?”

“Don’t speak my name.” He said with a disgusted expression. “Unworthy bastard.”

“Unworthy, because I would harm your people? I assume that is the fear of all those here?” he asked.

There was a silence and even the jester was quiet, he let out a nervous laugh and his voice seemed to go through the room.

“My Lord is Merciful even if he decides to melt the world in hellfire and doom should we not behave! Surely Altea is of the type that one must be melted to obey! OBEY!” The Jester said with a whap of the Palomecian lad with his stick, and the nobles laughed a bit as Orren punched the Jester and regained his sense of ease.

“Surely you would.” Raszler said with disgust. “Surely you HAVE.”

“And yet, I have slain no Altean, nor will I without just cause, but I accuse you, Lord Raszler, of one thousand counts of attempted murder, terrorism and of course treason, merely a summary list of your various crimes, doubtless there are more, but any of those carries sufficient weight to serve as samples. I trust you understand these charges?”

“I trust you don’t even know the meaning of those charges yourself, elf.” The Altean spat.

“We shall proceed with the trial then,” the elf said, as another group of C’tani entered, “Not by me, of course,” he said, as they took up a place at the opposite end of the hall, several tables being set up, there was a necrontyr in the group, but also two humans, dressed in black robes.

“I expect no justice from the occupiers. Only death. And nothing would be more glorious. I did struggle against the invaders, I did lose, but I did not bow to them and sign away Altea’s heart and Soul. That was all you, Syrian. Your father would scorn, and Heirus would cry.”

“These proceedings are being held according to the special regulations of the slaver disposal act,” the necrontyr said, “in view of the accused having been captured while directing the forces of a slaver-revolt in the Blessed Realm of Altea. Accused, do you require an explanation of the charges laid against you?”

“I don’t imagine I do. They’re as clear as can be.” He said with a frown.

“To the specific charge of ordering explosive devices, at the last count not less than fifty, planted beneath the city of Mordovia, how do you plead?”

“Guilty.” He said with no hesitation.

“And of the charge of knowingly not only endangering but conspiring to terminate, over one thousand lives of the citizens of Mordovia, how do you plead?” a woman next to him asked.

“Guilty.” He said with a frown. “It was either occupation or death. Death is a much more merciful option.”

They stopped briefly, to talk among themselves, “Have you anything further to say in your defence?” the necrontyr man asked.

“It was my defense. Do you know what occupiers do to the lands they occupy? Cities sacked, the people raped and pillaged, and the people killed after an occupier’s torment. No, death is a mercy.” Razsler spat angrily. “So kill me then. I’ve waited for this moment.”

“We have been requested not to seek the death penalty in your case, as a sign of clemency from the Regent,” the man to his left said.

Raszler’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “So you... you seek to torment me until the end? Torture and no hope of death? You are even more cruel than Tyrus. Why? Why do you seek to destroy us?”

“Nor will you be tortured, however, you are subject to attainder by the regent, and your title and lands will be re-granted to some more loyal subject. You are instead sentenced to be deported to the C’tan Empire, within whose borders you will remain for the rest of your life.”

“So I am to be enslaved then. Typical.” The Lord scoffed as he crossed his arms. “Very well.. it is not preferable to death, but I suspected as much then if not torment or death. I accept.”

Palanedhel spoke up, finally annoyed, “You are not a slave, you may find such employment as suits you, or subsist according to such means as provided by law. You who restrict the movement of your own ‘smallfolk,’ can hardly claim to deserve better.”

“That is because they’re serfs, and they are slaves. There’s no other reason to have it any other way when one restricts people’s movements. So are you going to claim I am not a slave, but am under some sort of arrest and I am exiled to your lands to serve your people’s interests?”

“You sir, are a criminal and nothing more, any more.”

“Very well then, we’ve nothing more to discuss. I surrender to your will.”

“Know one thing before you go,” the elf said, “I did consider drastic and gory punishments, but then I realized... the worse punishment is, for you, to simply know that you are of no significance to anyone henceforth. Syrian, any last words to Raszler?”

“None.” Syrian said slightly disappointed that he was not punished harshly.

“Remove the criminal,” the regent said, as the judges stood, and the necrons ushered him out, the elf looked at the court with interest.

The court filled with nobles didn’t seem to regard the Regent much, and the Prince beside him merely sat and observed. The Court Wizard wore strange robes with the symbol of Idrise upon his back, and the Holy Sage, a woman, also watched with interest the events unfold.

“Do not mistake this lenience for weakness, those of you who harbour thoughts of treason,” the elf said, “that man was permitted to leave and to live because he at least had reason to think we might be cruel and sadistic. None of you now have that excuse, learn from this, and do not force me to be cruel to demonstrate my will. Sammeus, rise.”

Sammeus rose and then approached as he knelt before Syrian and Palanedhel. He did not meet their gaze, and kept his hand over his heart.

“My Lord?” He asked as he kept his composure still.

“As they will not have you in Palomecia, I have another task in mind for you.”

“Command me and I shall go and do your will in the name of Altea.” Sammeus said with still his stony grim expression. He did seem to be a perpetual frowner.

“Go to Mordovia, and assist our forces there in dealing with the natives, although we have chosen a new baron, it will be some time before he is suitable to install, and you shall assist a suitable necron lord in running the area. There, too, I wish you to learn of the crimes of ex-lord Raszler, and see some justice done to undo those wrongs. If you accept this task, you will have our cooperation.”

“If it is will of My Lord, it shall be done.” Sammeus said with a nod of his head and he rose. “I am aware however of some sort of restrictions that exist upon us, will I be re-awarded the badge of office that is due to me?” Sammeus asked curiously.

“Not as Baron, no, we shall find some suitable appointment, seneschal or castellan or some such, when your task is completed, you may have some reward, if you deserve it. I trust that does not displease you too greatly, who so recently was cursing me for a slaver?”

“I curse you as an occupier and a thief, and a slaver as well. I do not trust you any more than you trust me. I expect that this is mutual. You surely believe me to be a slaver a thief, but I am not an occupier. This is my home. I treat my countrymen with respect due to them.”

“I believe you neither, Syrian tells me you do not own slaves, as do you, and I will take that word as given, I think you are a man of honour who does not yet understand that I serve a greater cause itself worthy of honour, and I am prepared to give you some respect for that. I am not a sadist, nor do I seek your nation’s humiliation, nor yours.”

“You say this and remove the badge of office that my family by honor of their achievement is due. It is humiliation that you could not possibly, as a foreigner, understand. You before nearly called me a traitor when I would rather die a thousand times over than betray my King. We have much to learn from each other it seems, but unless there is trust, there cannot be full cooperation. This cannot happen if my King is threatened.”

“You have no king,” the elf said, “Syrian, tell the man he has no king.”

“If he is to speak the truth you will harm him. He is in duress and I believe not a word he speaks as long as you, a foreigner, attempt to establish regency over the true King.” Sammeus said with a frown.

“I am your Prince, Sammeus, and you will address me so.” Syrian said with a frown.

“Yes, your Majesty.” He said with a bow. “I shall then address you as Your Highness at your request, but only because you are our King. It is from this I obey your command.”

“You owe a loyalty to me if you are loyal to your prince, and refusal to pay that loyalty is treason, a mild form perhaps. How would you regard one who insulted your king in the manner you insulted me?”

“You are NOT my King, and never will be. You are a foreigner. This is something you must accept. You will never be one of us. My King is the highest authority who I shall follow until the end. If it is treason, then give me the punishment due a treasonous man. I will deny that I have insulted my King, but I pledge loyalty to him, you are merely the hand that squeezes his compliance. I will only be loyal with this knowledge. My King is a hostage. He is not a Prince. If there is nothing more that you demand of me, I shall carry out your will then. As his Majesty commands.”

“That was not the question asked,” the Regent said.

“It is my answer, My Lord. If you wish to speak for me, you may, but I will speak in the way that I will, otherwise it would not be my words, would it?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“If you will not play games of rhetoric with me, than you are dismissed,” he said.

“I am willing to play games of rhetoric, provided my life is not something that is pulled into the scenario, surely one would not play a game of rhetoric with the King, Prince, nor the Regent. One wrong word and I’ll be hanged for treason or something that you strange foreigners do to the treasonous. How then can I serve my Prince or his Regent?”

“You have my leave to go,” the elf said, not even looking at him now, but at Deneroth.

The man bowed his head and he looked over at Deneroth reproachfully. Muttering a curse under his breath. Lord Deneroth knelt before the Regent and kept a stoic expression as he spoke to Palanedhel with respect and reverence.

“How may I help you, My Lord?” he asked with his head still low before the Regent.

“Tell me your name, first of all,” he said, wanting to hear it in full.

“My name is Aurelis Nathor Deneroth the Second. I serve Baron Dan Clausvold, in the northwestern region. How may I serve you?” He asked as he wondered what his name was being asked for.

“And your title?” he asked. The elf seemed to be going somewhere with what he was saying.

“I was once given the title of Baron before Von Clausvold, but I am now merely a Knight. This is well enough.” He mentioned as he seemed to be curious over the questioning over his title.

[Idrise]

“Very good,” he said, in a tone that suggested just as much, that he didn’t think so much of that, “I have a question for you; what is it you know of the murders in the House of Lords?” he asked, seeming like he spoke more generally to the room.

“The Traitor Reddelbrek murdered the heads of most of our families, and attempted to murder the Kin-er Prince of Altea. An unforgivable crime.” The Palomecian boy said with an uncomfortable twitch as he reached for his book. “He has murdered one of the Patriarchs of the Palomo family. Everyone knows that.”

“This is a pity, as Richard used to be a friend. I can’t imagine that he would do such a thing. He was always fair-minded to all people, including the non-Tor. Not well liked, but he was a good leader.” Lord Deneroth said with a sigh in disappointment. “Everyone lost a family member. There is much strife over it.”

“What was his motive?” the elf asked, standing up.

One of the women piped up, annoyedly. “We all knew he had republican ambitions. He even instituted democracy in Drakenspire, and dare claimed it was the obligation for the rulers to follow mandates proposed by the smallfolk. A farce! Had I the instance to allow the public to make laws, they would make the stupidest decisions. A terrible thing for all of them.”

“The C’tani public makes the decisions, and they have not done badly out of it,” the Regent said, deciding he might as well have a little fun, even if there were a number of potentially credible counter-arguments.

“Well let’s see...in Drakenspire public drunkenness is not a punishable offense, and nor is public nudity, even if it is something that is terribly stupid thing to do in such a cold place. There is also no laws prohibiting animals from voting, which means the Forntian religion is legal there, so too is teaching animal language. Both things promote sedition and delude the animals into believing they are persons.”

“As is the law of both the universe and of Altea, they are people, and you would do well to remember it,” he said, “whom do I have the honour of addressing?” he asked.

“Lady Von Clausvold. Though you mistake my speech, they are surely people, but not persons. This is a certain distinction.” She said as a couple other Alteans seemed to nod in approval.

“Explain,” the elf asked, attempting to remain as gracious as possible while inwardly facepalming at the speciesist diatribe about to come his way.

“It is quite clear in its meaning. Surely they are people, as they have their own speech, emotions, and are self-aware. But they are not persons, which is a careful distinction in law. If we are to flaunt around personhood we must first define it, and since they are not human, nor do they have the proper intelligence to self-govern, they are not persons.”

“I trust you think similarly of elves?” he asked, as though trying to draw her on to say something unwise.

“Are you implying they’re animals? I do not consider elves to be animals, because they have the intelligence to match it. They are deformed, but not animals.”

“Ah, so you think I am deformed?” the elf asked, “That is not a wise thing to say...”

“If you have a deformity, it is not something I’d deny. Bi gods, if I had a deformity, then I would wish people would tell me frankly, so that I may correct it through surgery or something. It is like ignoring a massive wart on someone’s face. Dwarves too, are merely diseased people. They possess physical deformities by birth, and uncontrolled hair growth. They are still human, however.”

The C’tani regent facepalmed and leaned on one of the throne’s armrests, “And necrontyr?”

“Had I have met them, I would say the very same. They have blue skin do they not? The disease of blue skin exists not only for some people. Why I heard of a story of inbred Aurothi becoming blue before. Unsurprising because they are inferior stock.”

“They don’t have a disease,” the elf said, “their blood is blue beneath the skin, they have white skin, ranging through to dark tans.”

“They have blue blood and clear skin and you do not think it is a disease? Perhaps among Imerians is blue blood not a sickness, but this is because of their magic. To have clear skin where blood dominates over melanin is a sickness most terrible. It is pitiable.” She said with a bit of sympathy. “But I know those who speak white lies and attempt to reassure deformed and crippled people of their normalcy, even though they are abnormal. For this, I understand your view of not wishing people to mention it! I shall be more mindful in the future.”

“Tell me this nonsense is not the received wisdom in this benighted place,” Palanedhel asked, looking at Syrian.

“Received wisdom?” Syrian asked befuddled by Palanedhel’s distress. “No, she’s much more of a compassionate Altean. Most merely consider non-humans as subhuman. To consider that some non-humans are deformed humans is a step up on most people’s ideals.” Syrian answered honestly.

He sighed, “Lady Clausvold, approach, if you please,” he said.

“Yes?” She asked as she approached, her hand fan was tucked away into the sleeve of her bliaut, and she then wondered what the elf wanted. He nodded to the spot beside Deneroth, expecting her to kneel, it seemed. She did not, however, waiting for him to instruct her what he wanted.

“Kneel,” the elf said, seeming irritated that she didn’t, although he was aware that the local etiquette possibly differed on this matter.

She knelt slowly in a different manner from Lord Deneroth, most likely because she was a woman, but then she seemed to have an expression which seemed to have a mild confusion and uncertainty. “Is there anything you actually want from me, My Lord?”

“Yes,” he said, “I am interested to know how you think a race ten thousand times older than humanity are merely deformed humans,” he said, “I must understand more about your people’s beliefs...”

“A Jellyfish is long-lived ser, but that doesn’t make it any more human or less jellyfish
for its age, Ser. As an example, we cannot blame a child who dies at age six from sickness any more than we can blame a man who lives to a hundred something. Perhaps it is the magic in your blood, but one cannot say for sure.”

“Necrontyr are not, however, human, nor are many other ‘non-humans,’” he said.

“I don’t see why you’d say such a terrible thing. They certainly are human. They look human, they speak like humans, are self aware as humans, and also are able to become as intelligent as humans. By what measure do you call them non-humans? They are only by these petty distinctions such as lifespan and MILD appearance differences which can be easily explained through genetic disorders and illnesses. However if they can breed with humans, then they ARE humans.”

“They cannot.”

“Elves certainly can, and so do dwarves, and if Necrontyr cannot, then one can add sterility to the list of disorders that they suffer. Do they not come from a hostile planet which is blighted to all life and afflicted them with all sorts of mutations and cancers?”

“They are not sterile, they have no substantive commonality with humans or related species at all.”

“I’ve not heard of this before, as far as I am aware, they’re genetically human and it’s fairly racist to suggest otherwise. You should be ashamed of yourself!” She said offended. “Such scoundrelly! ”

“I see... this is interesting. Can’t beastlings breed with humans?” he asked.

“That is crazy talk. They cannot even breed among themselves. Why I’ve not heard a single case of a half beastling. Though some believe that Demi-humans were half-beastlings and half human, but I’ve yet to see anyone conduct PROPER research on the case. So I shall reserve my judgement.” Lady Clausvold said with a frown.

“I am interested by your notions, of course,” he said, “How then, can you say that beastlings are not people?” he warmed slightly to her as she didn’t say beastman.

“They are people, they are not persons. This is a difference.” she said with a deeper frown. “Why anyone can ‘tame’ a beastling, and such is barbarism, but they’re still ‘people’-like. Is this not true?” She asked, wondering if he knew of the tamed Beastlings.

“No one can imprint beastlings without themselves expecting to be subjected to similar cruelties by my troops,” he said, “But I want to know what you consider a person...” he asked.

“Well the trouble with animals is that they can mimic humanity to such a strong degree. My daughter used to have a beastling pet, but after abolition we were forced to let him go, a pity, because he was loved much by the family. Upon owning the little thing, we were able to see the astonishing ability that they are able to mimic a human. Speech, behavior, and manner... it’s uncanny, but it’s merely imitation. Regardless of how well it is done, it is still ‘monkey-see monkey do’ largely, the same way that one can train a parrot to speak.”

“How is it then that their civilization to the west has developed in so many areas beyond Altea?” he asked.

“They do not only watch Altea and Mimic Altean people, they also mimic other beings. If you see they have borrowed much of their manners also from elves and the tree people. They do not have a civilization of their own, truly.”

“Interesting, and yet, which of the cultures of this continent did they ape the ability to create functioning and integrated cybernetic limbs from?” he asked.

“Probably one of the many spacefaring people they trade from, or others. It is imitation, not creativity. Nothing they create is an innovation, it is borrowing and mimicking. This is the main problem with animals. They cannot generally move beyond that which they are trained or conditioned to learn.”

“This is not even true of mundane animals, there are bird that will solve relatively complex problems, have you ever heard the fable of the raven?” he asked.

“Is it the one with the fox and cheese? If so I have heard it before. This is not to say animals cannot be clever, My Lord. If animals were not clever, fox hunting would be an utterly boring sport.”

“It is a boring sport,” the elf said, “Tell me, what happened to your ‘pet?’ he asked.

“We were not permitted to keep him, so he was cast out of our home. I do not know where he went or if he even lives.” The woman said with a frown of reproach.

“How very organized,” he said, looking at Syrian.

“She was compensated with money, but no slave was allowed to be kept, as you’ve suggested. What do you expect?” Syrian asked genuinely curious.

“It is common practice to have somewhere for them to go. Forcing them out on the street is basically killing a huge number,” he said.

“Well, it’s done. We cannot undo such a thing, but thank you for the information.” Syrian said with a frown.

“We can do our best,” he said, “It has only been a few days,” he added.

“So what exactly do you want me to do to give them somewhere to go. There’s not a place I know where they can go.”

“That is simple enough,” he said, standing up, “I have a proclamation to make,” he said, and one of the necrons rapped its staff against the ground beside the throne, between him and Deneroth and Lady Clausvold.

“People of Altea, hear and attend,” she said.

The Nobles bowed as they listened carefully and they approached the ruby throne, attempting to keep their eye contact down, but still face the throne.

“Henceforth, I am offering to compensate any person who gives shelter to any freed slave, a telephone number will be provided to inform us of their locations, and those who keep them in their keeping, unharmed, will be rewarded with one hundred credits per freed slave so-reported, save only their former masters, who shall not be permitted to retake them. We shall endeavour to collect them as soon as possible,” he said, “Any sign of duress or cruelty in this matter will, naturally, negate the reward.” Inwardly he gagged at the billions of credits this would entail spending, but he certainly had the budget.

“Is that not a bit much?” Syrian asked blankly. “Taking care of a slave is something that mostly nobles would endear to do, and most can’t really take on the burden of a slave.”

“No, but a hundred credits likely goes a long way among your poor, and the poor can often find more generosity under their eaves than the nobility. They are not to be slaves, they are to be guests.”

“I do not know that this would work...” Syrian said with a frown, “But very well...”

The Noblewoman seemed to be annoyed. “So why can one not merely regain the beings that were once our pets or servants?”

“Because you are nobles,” he said, “and therefore not in need of my money, or are you in need of my money?” the elf asked.

“No, but my daughter would want her pet back.” The woman said “Even if we are to call him a ‘guest’ he was part of the family. ”

“The point is that you would not want to separate her from him twice, surely?” Palanedhel said.

“You people are so uncompromising. Is there a reason for wishing to throw our pets on the street?”

He looked at her, chin raised, “Yes,” he said, and sat down.

“Hear and obey the word of the Regent of Altea,” the necron said.

“I take that as a ‘no’ then.” She muttered annoyedly.

“There is a reason,” he said, “I simply do not desire you to know my reasons.”

“I’m sorry, My Lord? What are you speaking of? You need no reasons to do things, you are the Imperial Regent of Altea.” She said defensively.

“If I tell you my reasons, you may think yourself able to manipulate me. It is sufficient for now that you obey.”

“My Lord? I have no desire to manipulate you. You are able to think for yourself well enough without me having to give you any such manipulation. I am, however, sincere in my beliefs and my expressions with you. You may feel free to listen or disregard them.”

“And I shall listen,” he said... but he would not necessarily heed.

[Mystrian Altea]

Necron Encampment, Imperial City

The necrons march Raszler through the city in chains; doubtless a humiliation, and it was interesting to see, to them at least, what the inhabitants thought of this spectacle. The citizens of Anion were quite afraid, and they did not know why the Duke of Mordovia and the Westland Sector was being marched through the streets rather than his field general or underlings. He was a traitor for certain, but his bloodline was more important, so there would have to be some sort of imprisonment rather than open humiliation. It was, in the eyes of the common citizen, horrifying.

“What are they doing, now?” an elderly man, partially blind, asked a younger Tor gentleman standing beside him. It was unclear whether he was the elderly man’s son or grandson.

“Lord Raszler has been captured. He is defeated and shamed, but... I don’t know what they will do.” The young man said with an uncomfortable squirm.

“I suspect they will kill him.” A young woman said, she had blonde locks, and red pouty lips. Her eyes were ice blue and she had a soft accent to her tongue. She was dressed like a peasant, but her hands were remarkably unblemished. Her manner of speech was also oddly refined for her station. “It is unlikely they will permit this affront in the face of His Highness’s sovereignty, not that I think that this is at all related to his Highness at all. This is about an affront to the Occupiers, most likely.”

“You call them Occupiers, Madame? They are not invaders?” The elderly gent asked confused.

“An Occupier is an invader who actually tries to stay here, but gods know what their interest is in Altea. The Silver most likely. Doubtless they are keen upon the mines in his Lordship’s lands.”

“Scandal!”

“Reality.” The woman said, as she turned to glance over at the necrons, did not look away or look down like most of the others around her. “They come, stay your tongue, Ser.” the woman said as she adjusted her apron.

The necrons stopped briefly, and the prisoner between them too, their leader, taller than the others and wrapped in a cloak, looked at her, “You are correct,” he said. They were not the type to deny they actually were interested in Mithril after all.

The woman did not flinch, unlike the others, but she pulled her shawl tightly, and her blonde hair was woven into a plait and was pulled over her shoulder. Her eyes were a cold blue and she slightly narrowed them at the Necrons as if attempting to read an expression she could not see.

“What shall you do to his Lordship?” The woman asked as the others around her cowered slightly, the necron was enormous compared to her, but she did not seem to notice or care.

“He is no longer a lord, he has been stripped of his title, and he is being taken to parole in the C’tan Empire for the rest of his life,” the necron said, “He was not deemed suitable of an honourable death, but spared execution.”

“Fitting, then. He was a tyrant and a selfish ruler.” The woman said as a few others around her mumbled racial slurs and sexist remarks quietly. “But I imagine, all those that contest the rule of His Highness shall share a much less merciful fate. He is a Tor, and he is a Duke. He also had a full retinue of slaves, and still probably does in his lands, as far as I am aware.”

“He will be fully debriefed,” the necron said, “And his being a lord or a Tor gives him no advantage, if anything they merely mean he has more to prove to show that he is worthy of the kindness we have bestowed. Those who dispute our rule in words are welcome to do so; those who contest it with violence will be met with violence, and those, such as this flowing diseased excrement here, who seek to harm the innocent, will be punished.”

“Define what you mean by innocent, as Alteans may differ on this regard. Some believe only women and children are innocent. Some only believe Children are innocent. Some don’t believe there are innocents. What do you officially call an innocent?” the woman asked.

“A non-combatant in this context is innocent unless actively and knowingly assisting armed forces in the business of attacks, naturally everyone has probably committed some small crime but in this context that is an adequate definition I think,” he said.

“Well enough.” The woman said with a raised eyebrow. She took a step away from the necrons as the crowd continued to watch in shock, the annoyance was more or less visible on the blind man’s face as he could not really understand what the hubbub was about. He never quite picked up on the social cues involving ‘dignity’ of a noble. After all he wasn’t a noble, and he wasn’t in the least bit connected to any sort of royal servant or the likes. He was merely a woodcutter. But of course the loss of his vision did not make it any easier to work or understand those types of social customs.

The necron lord - not that he was a lord in a meaningful sense - turned to look at Raszler, as if thinking for a moment, looking for the woman again, slightly intrigued, and assigning an observation tag for her to have the other occupiers ensure that she was at a slightly increased risk of violence, and marching the chained man into the secured area where their vehicles were parked, claws digging into his arm.

“AGH! Stop that, there’s no need for that at all. Furthermore telling the people of Anion such slander is both cruel and disgusting” Raszler said with a frown.

“Keep silent prisoner,” the necron said, marching him up to a pillar that sat on the ground, next to which a huge vehicle with a cage on its back, nestled between arching, rib-like buttresses, sat. Clearly the humiliation was not over.

“What barbarism is this? I thought you said I would not be tortured. Was this deception?” The nobleman asked, obviously humiliated.

The necron picked him up, stepping up into the cage by the front, which folded down like a personnel carrier, “This is imprisonment, not torture,” he said, shoving the man to the back along the tight mesh, “There are a lot of prisoners to come,” he said, chaining Raszler by the wrists to one of the sides of the cage, where a hook like a padlock moved to accept them and then clamped back down, “You do not think you are special do you?” he asked, towering in the gaol ark’s confined space.

“What do you mean by special?” The Duke asked annoyedly.

“You are a common criminal,” the necron said, cloak swirling as he turned away.

“Just because you say it doesn’t make it so. My people still consider me a duke, and so I am still a duke.” The man said with a dismissive shake of his head.

The necron ignored him, walking down the ramp, not even bothering to lock it after him as he and his troops departed, leaving the duke in the open vehicle, with only several other parked vehicles for protection.

Raszler attempted to carefully open the door slightly, looking around to see if anyone noticed first. Then he looked around for anything small, a place where he could squeeze through but not be followed as he tugged against his chains in irritation, he realized he wouldn’t be able to escape so easily. Cursing under his breath he tried to examine the locks to see what sort of object held him fast to the wall.

The side of the vehicle was solid enough, the loop that held him was almost an inch thick, made of the same metal the vehicle was, holding his wrists up before him. He struggled a bit more as he waited annoyedly and sighed as he listlessly reached to close the door.

“Damn it...” Raszler mumbled as he tried to look at the locks themselves for a feature, perhaps he could see if he could hassle a nearby urchin to give something sharp and pointed if he could find where the keyhole was. It seemed that, sadly, the chains were locked by some kind of invisible mechanism, without any lock. A necron patrol passed by, dozens of them, in ranks, not marching, but more sort of slouching along languidly.

A small urchin boy looked up at the necron and seemed to be confused as he stared for a moment.

“You are naked. Isn’t that against some sort of rule? Why aren’t you wearing clothes?” The kid asked the Necron blankly.

The necrons ignored him, walking past and paying the child no mind, for now at least; street children were among their priorities, of course, but not yet. The kid looked at the necron walk past as he then went with his other group of children. They looked for a C’tani human, among the rest. One of them, very personable attempted to catch their attention.

“HELP, HELP! I need help!” she cried.

The human - actually not, but close enough as made little difference - looked at the kid, tall and dark haired, with a uniform of black and brocade, “What kind of help?” he asked.

“There was a man, with a grizzly beard, he took away my brother.” She said as another child was watching the area making sure there would be a way to escape. The distraction was made well enough that the third child, a boy, carefully checked the C’tani, attempting to see where their purse or wallet was. “You’ve got to help me! Please! My Brother’s only three!”

The man’s wallet was inside the coat, it seemed, and he looked at the child in front of him, “Okay, let’s get you some help,” he said, “It’ll be alright...”

The child tried to reach into the coat as carefully as possible as the little girl hugged the C’tani and sobbed heavily, attempting to give her friend a chance to touch the C’tani without catching his attention.

“They’re gonna kill him! He’s only a little boy, please help me!” She wailed.

“Yes, yes I will,” he said, hugging her, and reaching with the other hand to touch something behind his earlobe, speaking some strange language briefly.

As the boy grasped the wallet, he tried to tug it as gently as possible out of the C’tani’s jacket, as the little girl distracted him well. The second boy was scanning the street to make sure no one would come and if they did, he’d signal to the other boy and his friend to run away.

The wallet that came out was sleek, dark, made of some kind of scaled leather, and fastened with a brass clasp, the man seemed not to notice.

The kid pulled out whatever looked remotely like money, identifications, credit cards, and coins, and took it before tucking the wallet back into the man’s coat. He tucked the money away, and whatever he managed to wrangle. The second boy who was watching gave the okay signal as he shouted to the pair. “Lissie! I seen ‘em go that way! You must hurry!” she said as the other boy who had taken the money walked away toward a car, to give the impression that he was with another man, and he struck up a conversation with him.

There was nothing much in the way of money there, small change, and a series of small chips and devices, some of them in gold-effect boxes, but otherwise seeming like some advanced manner of memory stick. The C’tani man looked at the girl in confusion.

The kid which was talking to the random passerby then waved off the passerby and examined the spoils of their scam, but couldn’t believe that the foreigner was so poor. He felt guilty for a moment, but most foreigners were suckers. At least they’d be able to turn out something with the coins they had lifted. The boy looked at the memory stick and the various devices that were lifted, he didn’t take all of them, but did take a couple as they’d probably sell on the market once they could get Ralthier to contact the fence. Of course since it was so minute, he doubted they’d see a cent of it coming back to them and groaned as the little girl attempted to direct the C’tani toward the alleyway. “They took my brother.”

“I see. How many of them were there?” he asked, reaching under the coat to remove something black and threatening from it, a sleek, wooden handled gun.

“There were about three of ‘em.” The other boy said, the watcher who motioned for the other boy to go back to Ralthier before the foreign chap knew anything was missing. The boy headed in the opposite direction that Lissie and the other little boy were going.

The C’tani man went with them, and duly inspected the allyway, taking the firearm, if that was what it was, and using it to generate a rather effective torchlight as he approached, he was clearly if not some kind of soldier, then at least seemed to mean business.

“So Tummus, which way did you see them go?” Lissie asked with still the sad expression.

“Saw ‘em go that way, I did! Three of ‘em, and they took him toward the river, not that way, though, that way.” The boy pointed as he walked toward the direction and guided the C’tani down the alley toward the river. “They’re gone!”

“Oh no...” The little girl looked dejected and devastated as Tummus hugged her gently.

“Okay. Who looks after you two?” the C’tani said, “We should get you back there, and we’ll arrange a search.”

“Don’t got nobody looking after us. Just live at the orphanage. Nobody cares if little ones disappear once in awhile, but sometimes it’s not once in awhile.” The kid said as he seemed to see less foreigners about now that the parade was over.

“Okay, let’s go to the orphanage,” he said.

The kids led the C’tani to the Orphanage. It was an old molded hole in the wall, seemed to be funded on charity alone. The building was made of wood and plaster, and the children seemed to be playing outside as well, and there didn’t seem to be many people who acknowledged them. They seemed to be a bunch of them who were begging for coins.

The C’tani man, young and ernest, knocked on the door, “Hello?” he asked, loudly; he was not appalled by the squalor, as he saw it, but only because he had long since been trained to understand such things.

“Whaddya want?” An overweight man asked as he opened the door. His breath smelled of beer and vomit and he seemed to not recognize the C’tani. “You lookin’ for a kid, ser?”

“You could say that,” he said, “I am Than ita Suhbekhar, of the C’tan, according to your ward here,” he said, trying to avoid letting his distaste show, “she has a missing brother. Do you have any pictures that might be helpful in finding him?”

“Bah it doesn’t matter. The kid got adopted by a pair of men. It’s not her problem anymore and certainly isn’t mine. So any pictures you need are probably with his new parents.” The man said with a dismissive wave.

“Liseth, you have to deal with the fact that he’s gone. You’re not adoptable, and no one wants to take you. You are too old, and you’ll have to just keep here until someone saves enough money to put you through apprenticeship. Failing that you can work on the farm with the rest of them.”

Than studied Liseth’s reaction thoughtfully, looking at her and the other boy with her. Liseth hung her head sadly, and the other boy didn’t seem to be phased in the slightest. He had no delusions of being reunited with any of his family. Nor did he expect that he’d make it past age thirty.

“I don’t believe you’ve given me your name sir?” the C’tani asked.

“Name’s Gregor. Nice to meet you,” he swaggered and reached to shake the C’tani’s hand. “Charmed.”

“Gregor, huh, my father’s name,” actually his father’s name was a few dozen millennia from the root, but Garan was either from Gregor or Gareth, “tell me sir, how much are apprentices here?”

“D’pends. Some are stupider than others, and some are too young to do apprenticeships. So for example, we’ve got Egan, he’s smart as a whip, clever and can even read. He’ll probably go for a higher price than Tummus who can’t do shit.”

“They can’t read then?” he said, sounding disappointed, “This one, say,” he said, looking at Liseth.

“None of these kids can afford schooling. Of course they can’t read. Not that I don’t try to teach them, but I can’t read much meself. It’s difficult. All those letters, and some of them look all the same.”

“I see, well, we’ll be setting up public schools in a few months most likely,” he said, again studying the children’s reactions.

The children didn’t seem to understand it much, and one didn’t seem to like the idea much.

“Why in the hells would I want to go to school?” The boy said with a harassed pout.

“Watch your tongue boy!” The Director said while he cracked his knuckles.

“S-Sorry Director Gregor.” The boy said nervously as he backed away.

“Why wouldn’t you,” the C’tani said, “It’ll be something new, and there’ll be decent food.”

“Food we can’t pay for, don’t be daft, ain’t no one gives anyone a free meal.” The boy said.

“I said watch your goddamned tongue.” The Director shouted as he struck the boy in the face, not as hard as it looked, but it was a cruel strike.

The C’tani reacted as he felt came naturally; he punched the man in the gut.

“ASSAULT! What the hell are you doing?” The man shouted as he recovered his breath. He felt the wind knocked out of him. The child did not seem to look relieved either, he looked terrified.

“Okay. Let’s make this simple,” Than said, with an attitude of weary resignation, “How much for these two?” It came out of left field.

“You punch me and then expect me to give you a kid? We’re not talking unless we begin with a going price of why I shouldn’t call the police!” The Director groaned. “By Serion’s blood, you’ve got a mean left hook.”

"Because the police have been given the day off, and then they’re going to be retrained, and what you'll get is a necron, who will see things my way."

“Like hell they will. You punch me in the gut randomly what the hell is wrong with you? Get out of my Orphanage!”

“Call the police then,” the C’tani man said, grinning, “you see, you assaulted the kid first.”

“I did not, I slapped him. He’s being disciplined so he can become adoptable. He has a foul mouth he won’t be adopted or even get a dime for an apprenticeship. You going to tell me you don’t smack unruly children?”

“No, we don’t,” he said, “And of course you are naturally selling your kids.... into apprenticeship. I really think the necrons would like to hear about that.”

“That’s what you do with all kids, it’s so they can have an actual future. Are you trying to tell me that you would prefer I throw my kids out on the streets?” The Director asked astonished at the callous foreigner.

Than gave him a steady look, “What do you think we do with orphans?” he asked. The truth was of course that the C’tani generally had enough “old” people who could be persuaded to adopt them that it wasn’t a problem, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Let them starve out on the streets with no education, no security for the future? That’s abominable! Now I’m no saint, but I don’t leave my kids out there with nothing.” The Director said with rage. “Giving them to people to serve for apprenticeships allows them to have a secure job, and after they become a journeyman they pay off all debts and become responsible adults. It’s like a personal instructor on a trade.”

“I know how it works. We give them a schooling and parents, where possible. And we don’t have to hit them to do it.”

“We can’t afford to give ‘em schooling, so this is about the best we can do for ‘em. And I’m teaching them proper discipline to ensure that they HAVE a future. If they don’t have discipline they become whores or they become dead in a gutter at a young age. No one wants that, I certainly don’t, so I teach them self-reliance, strength, power, tradition, and discipline.”

“And yet, you give them to me, and I’ll get them all of those things and more,” he said.

“Like hell I will. Saying I assault my kids and then assaulting me? What the hell is wrong with you? Get out of here, now!”

“Hard luck kids...” he said, turning to leave.

As the C’tani stepped toward the door, a young boy who looked like he had been thrashed quite a bit limped and then spotted him, looking up from his swollen and bloodied eye. He accidentally flopped upon Than, and the Director looked horrified.

“Louis, what the hell happened to you, Boy?” The Director shouted as he rushed to the back room and brought a tub of raw meat and green gel. “Don’t just stand there, bring him o’er here damn it!”

The C’tani frowned, picking the child up gingerly, carrying him over to the younger - if older looking - man.

The man slopped the raw meat over the boy’s eye and quickly removed the boy’s shirt, and saw all the bruises and cuts. He was disgusted.

“Than... or whatever your name is. Call the police now. A medic if you’ve the coin. I don’t but I’ll pay you back if you get it right now.”

The C’tani man touched the back of his ear again, speaking his own language again, “Done, what happened here?” he asked. Liseth and Tummus looked horrified and leaned over Louis with nervous looks on their faces. Louis mumbled and barely uttered a comprehensible word. His teeth were bloody and he had a broken and chipped tooth.

“Try this,” Than said, holding out a small cylinder that dispensed some kind of pills, “Under the tongue, if possible, I think I had better do that actually,” he said, stepping closer.

“Gentle.” The director said with his eye waiting anxiously at the window, hoping someone would come.

The boy was too exhausted to do much and merely opening his mouth and lifting his tongue seemed to take effort. The act of putting the relatively small pill in place was quite difficult; it was not actually a very effective painkiller, but it at least gave a pleasant sort of spaced out feeling. “Who did this to him?” the C’tani asked.

“Whoever did is getting his balls cut off, I don’t care if I have to break a bottle and tear them off meself.” The Director said mumbling. “I don’t know, but I will find out.” he said angrily.

The children were silent, but they seemed to have some idea by the uncomfortable looks they gave one another. The injured boy, Louis didn’t seem to say a word, but looked up at Than with a slight glance of recognition. He then muttered.

“W-Who are you?” before gritting his teeth from the pain.

“My name’s Than,” he said, as the sound of a pair of vehicles setting down outside could be heard, and people disembarking, the C’tani soldiers were dressed broadly similarly to Than, though the two men who arrived were different to the stereotype, broad and shaven headed, tattoos on one’s face giving a look of almost thuggishness. The elven woman who arrived with them, dressed in white, however, was clearly some kind of medic.

The director rushed to the medic. “Please, please help my boy. He’s been hurt. Don’t know what happened, but looks like he’s been wrestled by a bleeding bear.” The Director said with worry striking him hard. “Please...He’s this way.”

Director Gregor led the medic to the injured boy, and the medic could see that with his shirt removed the boy seemed to have shattered a rib, from the impression on his chest, and he was bruised and beaten. The bit of raw meat was upon his injured eye, which was bloody, bruised, and swollen.

The elven woman held a hand out and leaned down, gauging his airway, breathing and pulse, and then moving on to check him with some kind of instrument, “He needs to be taken to hospital,” she said, “I can’t really do much about some of this,” she said, waving for the guards to fetch a stretcher, the device that they came back with a hovering device that lifted him slightly as they pressed it under him.
The boy was lifted and the other children were congregating around the strangers. They could smell the blood and saw the enormous bald man with tattoos and one of the girls got scared and backed away. She did seem oddly afraid, especially because of the tattoos.

They left almost as quickly as they’d arrived, taking the boy on the stretcher with them, Than watching the director’s reactions as they did so.

“Alright then...” He sat down and called a few of the children over. “Do you know where Little Louis went, and what he was doing?”

“No, ser.” The girl said.

“Okay then, go sit down, it’s almost lunch time.” he said before he began to question all the children. When it got to Tummus and Liseth, they seemed to squirm uncomfortably.

“I don’t know, ser.” Liseth said convincingly.

“Alright, go sit down and eat.”

“Tummus, do you know where Louis was, and what he was doing?” He asked the boy.

“I...” He started. “No, ser.. I don’t.”

“Are you lying to me, Tummus?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No, Ser.”

“I don’t believe you. Tell the truth, now, or you’ll be getting no supper for tonight.” the Director said with a frown.

“I don’t know ser.”

“A likely story. You’re on begging rounds tonight.” Director Gregor said with a frown. “Do you know where they took Louis?” he asked Than.

“The medics? C’tani hospital ship most likely, the local facilities are... crammed with morons that think charging is somehow on the cards.”

“Charging is always on the cards. Nothing’s for free.” The Director said with a frown. “Alright kids, food.”

He pulled out a couple loaves of bread and some slices of cheese and distributed it to the children, they hungrily devoured the bread and then looked hopefully to the cupboard. The Director didn’t seem to give them any more food, and then they were dismissed from the table. “Go on! Go!” He said as there also didn’t seem to be enough chairs for them all either, they would also try to be cunning and try and sit down twice to get two bits of bread and cheese, but then the director would box their ears and send them off, threatening to whip them with his belt.

“Where’s this C’tani Hospital?” He asked as he didn’t seem to eat anything.

“In orbit, I can bring you there if you need to,” he said, “Do you think the boy knows who did this?”

“Undoubtedly, it’s why I’m punishing him. He’s not telling me, but he will. Every kid gets hungry.” He said with a frown.

“Do you mind if I have a go?” he asked.

“Give it a shot, but I don’t like not feeding the kid... if he doesn’t I’ll give him a tidbit, and will give him more rounds of begging then.” The Director said with a sigh, “But don’t tell him that.”

Tummus sighed as he sat on the couch, miserable and guilt ridden.

“Tummus, isn’t it?” Than asked, as he walked over, “Come outside.”

“Yes, Ser...” He noticably did not beg for coins from the C’tani, but one of the girls seemed to approach him.

“Can you please help the Orphans in need?” The little girl outside asked. “Every coin helps.”

He pulled out his wallet, opening it.

Tummus frowned as the man opened his wallet, and the Wallet was mostly empty, and he did not seem to be surprised.

He took out some coins left over, and frowned, “Why that’s interesting,” he said, “know anything about that?” he asked.

“Everyone knows there are pickpockets and cutpurses everywhere, looks like you got picked.” The young boy said with a frown. “Unlucky pick of the draw, Ser.”

“You may as well give it back,” he said, looking disappointed, “I might have been caught once, but I’m not actually stupid.”

“I don’t have it, Ser. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but it happens a lot ‘round here. Not many coppers.” The kid said as he took a moment to look at the C’tani with an uncomfortable squirm.

Than fixed him with a stern look, tilting his head down and to one side, eyebrows raising just a little.

“Really ser, I don’t have it. I don’t know where it could even be. I don’t do no theivery. Hands too pudgy. Can’t reach quick enough.”

“You just distract the mark then?” he asked.

“I don’t do thieving ser, I’m saying that even if I would, which I wouldn’t, I can’t. It’s impossible.” The boy said with his discomfort still showing. “But blaming an orphan, ser. I understand how you feel. Most people feel we are a drain to society. Most people would just consider us a blight. They do, ser. Maybe I should just leave you alone. I’m sorry for your lost things.” The boy said hanging his head with a sad expression. A fantastic performance, an act that showed the kid knew exactly how to touch the attention and heartstrings of people.

“I see...” the C’tani said, “tell me who did that to Louis boy.”

“I don’t really know ser, you’re not the only one who hates orphans. Way I see it, most people see us as easy targets. Little kids with no parents and no one who really cares. Were I a criminal, I’d see them as a perfect victim.”

“Okay, I am sure you don’t mean much harm, kid, but I am actually quite annoyed. I work with criminals all the time, I know when you lie,” Than said, it wasn’t actually true, “out with it now.”

“Honest Ser, I don’t know anyone that would, it’d be a bad idea to piss off local syndicates here. They don’t like it when someone muscles in on kids who are out on the streets. We’re Alteans, but we have principles!” The child said with a nod of his head. This was actually cute if it weren’t for the fact that he didn’t believe it in the slightest.

“Okay, then I’ll have to have you and Liseth arrested... I’m sure we have camera footage to see which one of you did it...”

“Ser, I’m appalled. I never believed foreigners would hate orphans so much that they’d arrest us for nothing! I imagined maybe beatings, and telling me to get lost, but now I go into the brig? Well take me then! Cruel foreigners and their cruel ways!”

Than waved one of the soldiers over, and had an... animated discussion with him for a few moments, the man putting a hand on the child’s shoulder, as he leaned into the orphanage, “Liseth, come here for a moment?” he called. Liseth looked up at the soldiers nervously and approached cautiously.

“Yes, Ser?” She asked as Tummus looked at Liseth with a ‘keep quiet’ expression. She was not quite as skilled as he was with scamming adults, which made things much more complicated.

“Tummus told me you were pickpocketing before, Liseth, but he’s afraid to tell me who for...”

“He what? I don’t pick pockets! He is lying!” Liseth said feigning astonishment. “I don’t know anyone who picks pockets, well since Tummus is telling you that, I can only be honest with you. He’s been going to the foreign streets lately, buttering up the foreigners, he was. Probably doing something suspicious.”

“Foreign streets?” he asked.

“Aye, where foreigner row is. Where all the rich people hang about looking for whores and wenches.” The kid said innocently, it was not quite clear if she knew what either of those words were.

“And who has he been meeting there?”

“Tall man, if I remember he was Tor with a scraggly beard. Don’t really know his name.” The girl said honestly.

“I see....” he said, and went silent for a long moment, unsure, turning away and walking up and down in thought.

Tummus looked uncomfortable as he checked back and forth from Liseth. He wanted to know what she was talking about with the poor foreigner.

“Let’s hear it, Tummus,” he said, “it will be much worse if you don’t tell me who he is now...”

“What do you mean much worse? What are you going to do to me? I didn’t do nothing.”

“You are a thief...” he said, “You both are... unless one of you was duping the other... ”

“But I’m not a thief! Never cut me a single purse I didn’t. I can’t swipe nothing. My hands are too pudgy.”

“We don’t tolerate any of the softness those Tor, do you know,” he said, “you’re only making it worse for yourself by denying it...”

“Tor? Soft? They’d hang me if I was caught picking purses. Not that I would, that would be crazy and dangerous.” The kid said slightly nervously. “Look I don’t want any trouble, I’m no thief, and we’ll leave it at that.”

“Hanging eh?” he said, hating himself, “like I said... soft.”

“Oh... Gods.” The kid said his eyes widening and his face becoming visibly green as Liseth looked at him pleadingly.

“For God’s sake Tummus, he’s going to die anyway. If they’re going to get someone might as well not be us!” Liseth said with a terrified tremble. “Look, ain’t either of us steal your purse, not that there was much to be stoled. Louis was the one who lifted your wallet. Took everything in it, and he was taking it to a Fence in the Harbor. When he came back, he was all tore up, broken. So if you want him, go ahead, we’re not going to hide him anymore.”

“I guess maybe you’re not thieves,” he said, “but tell me more about this fence...”

“Goes by the name Ralthier, kind of tall, scraggly beard. He’s graying but he’s probably a Tor. Hair’s dark in places.” Tummus said with a sinking sickening feeling. He just got his friend killed, and probably tortured. He thought he couldn’t feel worse, but then he did. “Going... to be back.”

The boy then went to the area nearby where the dumpster was as Liseth was looking up at the foreigners with her face still pale. “So you’ll let us go? Promise?”

“Yes. And Louis too.”

“What?.... b-but you just said...”

“The Tor are soft, yes, after all, look how much crime they tolerate; we’ll put an end to that, but you are just kids. We’re not going to hurt you. I just said that to scare you.”

“Well you scared me right and good. You won’t believe the kind of foreigners there are out there. I don’t want to know what some of them can think of that’s worse than hangin’. I’m sure there’s a lot that are. But you seem like a rather odd foreigner, mister...” Liseth said with a curious look up at him.

“Why is that?” he asked, looking at the boy across the yard, followed by the guard who’d been with him in case he tried to abscond. Rather than abscond, the boy vomited in the dumpster, not having heard anything that the C’tani had told Liseth.

“Well, you didn’t immediately think we were innocent kids for one, secondly you’re as poor as a mouse, third, you have got an Altean mindset. It’s strange to see it in foreigners.” The Girl said honestly.

“What do you mean, an Altean mindset?” he asked.

“Well, Altean Mindset’s the one that don’t get you conned or well, not all the time. Some Alteans are easier to con, others aren’t. Most however are just too smart for that, mind other foreigners are dumb as rocks. No offense to rocks, though.”

“That’s nonsense kid,” Than said, with a shake of his head.

“What, are you sayin’ foreigners aren’t as dumb as rocks? Most of ‘em fall for the easiest ploys, but hey, I can’t argue with that much, get us bread for dinner, and that’s fine by me, I like stupid foreigners much more than smart ones. ”

“They aren’t stupid, they just underestimate the depths you people have sunk to, I expect.”

“I am a people? Most people don’t call me that, maybe a gutter rat, or a little rotten street urchin, I don’t know what that means, but I never got people b’fore. I can’t say I like it much, sounds like fightin’ words. Are those fightin’ words mister foreigner?”

“People? You don’t know what a person is?”

“Well, I meant more like as an insult, I don’t know what you mean by ‘you people’ because I never heard it said like that. Much less by a stranger, but... I don’t know if they are fightin’ words.”

Tummus saw the pair and smiled widely for a moment before looking at the ground. “So you got Louis, and you have your culprit... will you let us go? I mean... w-what are you going to do to.... ugh I don’t think I want to know I’m gonna be sick again.”

“Wotcher prattlin’ about?” Liseth asked as she looked over at Tummus not realizing he still believed that they were going to torture and kill Louis. “Ooohh, um... the foreigner said he was conning us, wasn’t really going to... you know. Even said he’d not tell the cops on us. ”

“What?” He looked relieved for a moment and narrowed his eyes at Than as he crossed his arms. “Er... Right I knew he was faking the whole time... I just... had a bad piece of chicken, that’s right.”

“I’m going to let you go, yes. Sort of.”

“Hang on, what’s this ‘sort of,’ are we getting arrested or not?” Liseth asked.

“You’re not being arrested, I’m going to have someone adopt you though, or at least move you out of the way so no one can hurt you.”

“Don’t nobody want to adopt us, everyone knows that rich people only adopt little babies. We don’t get adopted, much less ever.” Tummus said slightly surprised.

“Much less ever?” he asked.

“Well.... ever ever. We don’t get adopted ever ever, not ever!” The boy said gesturing as if he were stacking things up, “Like a million times less than ever.”

“That can’t really be so,” he teased.

“Truer than the day I was born!” The little boy said proudly beating his chest, as if it were a great accomplishment.

“Well you would like to be, wouldn’t you?” he asked.

“Well... I heard families were nice... but you can’t know what you’re missing if you’ve never had it?” He said revealing the slightly covetous tone of voice. He seemed to resent this question, after all who wouldn’t want a family? He certainly did, but he didn’t think it’d ever happen. Liseth seemed to have a similar expression, only with a slight pout.

He looked at one of the guards, “Besides, my parents adopted an orphan older than you,” he said, not actually sure about the boy but older than the girl he thought, “So it does happen.”

“Maybe, but... what are the odds?” The child said as he instinctively shied away from the guards. “Uh... so are you going to try and chase down Ralthier?”

“Not at all,” he said, “at least, I’m not, we’re going to go back inside and you can help me find him.”

“Oh, I don’t actually wanna... I think. I think it might be bad. He did that to Louis, he might do it to us too....”

“If you help me, then I’ll make sure he doesn’t,” Than said, “if you don’t, who knows what he might do to you...”

“But....” The pair looked at each other in terror and sighed. “But... I... okay.” Tummus said in a deflated manner.

He took a device from his pocket, sitting down in a too-small chair by a table, an image of the docks appearing in three dimensions, like he’d captured the entire area and shrunk it down to fit the table.

“Huh? What’s that! It’s the coolest thing ever. Can I touch it?” he asked before putting his finger out at the little simulation. Liseth tried to look up at it and swipe at it with her hand, to see if it was really there.

The image didn’t react at all, not swimming or flickering but ghostly to the touch. “It’s like farseeing...” Than said, “from this we can look at the docks from here...”

“Oooh, it moves....” Liseth said as she tried to point at the place she last remembered Ralthier was seen. “I seen the Fence here at midday, he goes to pick up wenches here in the evening.”

“Wenches? They work for him?”

“Yup, at the nightfall they hang around the docks. Many of them sick tho’ so I wouldn’t if I were you,” the kid said surprised that the Foreigner was interested in wenches, but then again this foreigner was as broke as broke could be, so he probably couldn’t afford a proper courtesan anyhow.

He gave Tummus a strange look, “Anywhere else we might see him?” he asked, separate images forming of the areas Liseth had pointed him to.

“Well there was one time when I saw him take the shipments out, but I don’t know what stuff he’s fencin’, takes whatever we give him, and he asks no questions, of course this means we don’t ask no questions neither.” Tummus said as he pointed at the shipping yard. “I think this the one.”

“I shall have those locations watched,” Than said, with a frown, “Is he the only one who employs wenches around there?”

“Gods no, there are a bunch of men who employs wenches. You seem to be interested in the kinds of women around here, or are you a man’s man?” The Little girl asked as she tilted her head slightly. It was unclear if she knew what she was talking about.

“Neither, I am not interested in that kind of thing, but if he were the only one employing them then it would be easier for our people to find him. But no matter...”

“I know a boy who knows were most ‘o’them are. Louis, he was a whoreson.” The girl named Liseth said. “Least that’s what a lotta people said.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Than said.

“I don’t know what a whoreson is, but I think it means son of a wench, because his mum was one, and well, she ended up getting syphillis and went barking howling mad. Though, heard that they were considering recruiting Louis into the crows once, but after that beating I doubt he will be doing much of anything for a while.”

“What’s a crow?” he asked.

“Ye know less than a wee born babe! Even Samise knows what a crow is, and he barely be walking yet! Me Ma and me Pa used to tell us of the Crows, they be killers from the far east. Bonafide hit-men they are. Always recruiting among the whoresons, because well... failure for a crow means well... you know, murder is even more illegal than stealing, and stealins’ a hanging offense.”

“Well there should be rather less murdering going on soon,” he said.

“Hoh! A wisecracker, or do you think you’ll be the next best crow and kill all of the competition. I’m sure Netario he will laugh his beans off hearin’ that.” Tummus said as he attempted to look over his shoulder. He felt a little uncomfortable for a moment. “Are ya off to go somewhere, Mister?”

“Not at all,” he said, “I am waiting for a while, then we shall see about getting you moved.”

“I... hope you don’t tell anyone... please? We still have... a few more to lift, and without Louis it can be a bit harder.”

“You are not going to lift anyone’s pockets,” he said.

“B-but... we’re short.” Liseth looked worried. She began to believe that the Foreigner wasn’t going to keep their secret.

“By how much?” he asked.

“Four hundred Gold Currents.” The Boy said with a frown. “B-but I could probably lift it from a few foreigners, if we’re lucky only three.”

“Do you take foreign money?” he asked, taking his wallet out.

“Of course I do, but last I saw you were poor as a mouse.” The boy said with a frown, feeling pity for the C’tani.

“Not really, you just can’t identify my money,” he said, frowning, “Though yes no cash...” he said with a shrug, waving one of the guards over, until finally managing to scrounge up some notes which he paid for, and shoving them in Tummus’ direction.

“I owe you one ser. I think this should do it for today.” the boy said as he counted the notes and began to set aside shares and the bit he had to pay to his boss. He wasn’t, of course, going to say who that was. “I suppose then you can tell us what you mean when you say, you’re ‘moving’ us?”

“Well, you’re going to be adopted, but I think we can move you to a better orphanage first of all,” he said, “they may do their best here, but it’s not the same. Naturally the same will happen for the others, once we get enough spaces but as someone might want to hurt you, you can be moved first.”

“So you think someone will do me like they did Louis?” Tummus said with a scared cringe. “I... but why? I didn’t do nothing. I keep my head down and so like I am told.” The boy said with a slightly nervous twitch. “But... what, what can you do to stop someone who is trying to hurt me?”

He shrugged, “Not much, those guys,” he nodded at the nearest of the guards, still in and around the orphanage, who looked rather professional, “are here for that.”

“Weren’t those guys where Louis was?” The boy asked.

“No,” he said, fluffing the boy’s hair, “you’ll be fine.”

The boy’s hair was fluffled, and he resisted the instinct to hug Than, after all, the only people who really fluffled his hair like that usually would give him hugs, and treat him less like a worm, but, even then he couldn’t open up too quickly, otherwise he could get himself hurt, instead the boy leaned forward and huffed for a moment and sighed.

“I’ll really be adopted?” He asked hopefully.

“Provided you stop stealing things...”

“B-but I can’t just stop lifting things. How are we going to eat then? We ran out of bread for this week just yesterday. Now you’re saying we can’t get money to buy it?” The boy seemed astonished by the idea.

“After. If you have parents, they’ll have money.”

“I dun know. I had parents b’fore and they didn’t have money either. They did tell me not to lift things though, when I did.” The boy said. “Does it mean that in order to have parents you have to not lift things?”

“Nah, it’s just some advice. I used to steal things now and then when I was a lad,” he said, though that had been more for the sake of amusement than for necessity, but he wasn’t going to say that. “You’ll never be hungry again though.”

“Never ever?” Liseth asked this time as she seemed to doubt it. There wasn’t a time she could think of when she wasn’t hungry, or trying to filch things like bread or cheese.

“Well, I’ve never been hungry. Fed up with fish from time to time, but never hungry.”

“You come from foreignstan, where everyone has food, and people have piles of gold. Or well, they don’t really have gold, because you still had no gold on you.”

“Most people don’t carry gold coins, we are too busy building our houses out of gold.”

“Rights, I’ll believe it when I see it! Until then I’m convinced you build it outta wood or plaster.”

“Stone and metal, actually, but not really gold unless you’ve no taste,” he said, remembering the Kalessini thing that he’d once seen.

“Taste or not, were I rich enough to build a gold house I would do it just coz I could. I mean no one could stop me if I could make a real gold house.”

“Anyways,” he said, “I should leave you kids for a bit, but we can go now if you like...” he said.

[The Ctan]

Offices of the C'tani Stabilisation Unit, Duat

The day outside the offices was calm and clear as Estevan returned to his desk, dumping the data-rod for the presentation notes on the table beside him, they weren't terribly useful as he'd given the same lecture on the work of the ISU for the last two days, and by now it was beginning to be something that he could do without much effort. The holographic displays lit up around him as it sensed him sitting, and he placed a security key in the desk, the black surface swimming with light as it configured his displays.

One screen in the half-bubble before him displayed the assignment statistics for Altea so far.

Personnel Assignments Overview: Altean Occupation Mission

1. Military Forces (Starships): 20 [1 Arnstoan Rhien Heavy Cruiser, 3 Jackal-class raiders, 6 Eranaiarniti-class Heavy Frigates, 5 Striker-class Patrol Vessels, 5 Hive-class Escort Carriers]
2. Military Forces (Aerospace): 252,500 aerospace craft pilots/minds [Attack-Transports: 23,000 squadrons, Attack-Fighters: 1,200 Squadrons Fighters, Tactical Bombers: 600 Squadrons, Assault Shuttles: 400 Squadrons, Strategic-Bombers: 50 Squadrons]
3. Military Forces (Ground): 1,400,000 [Composition list omitted]
4. Reserve Forces (OPAX Ground Forces): 5,000,000 [Composition list omitted]
5. Reserve Forces (OPAX Aerospace Forces): 423,000 [Composition list omitted]
6. Civilian Starships: 23 [Colony Support Vessels: 15, Heavy Freighters - graded superlifter+: 6, Great Ships: 2]
7. Police Instruction & Liason: 30,000
8. Civil Governance Instructors: 143,000
9. Emergency Services: 1,483,000
10. Education & Child Services: 290,000
11. Sanitation & Environmental Services Renovation Office: 29,000
12. Community Engagement Cadre: 39,000
13. Economic Development Cadre: 42,000
14. Special Sexual Violence Unit: 45,000
15. SD-Tombs Funerary Taskforce: 190,000
16. Public Genetors: 120

"Hi Teven," a voice said.

He stopped reading, looking up over the desk, a solid piece of grained adamantine, carved and spatially-deleted into its shape, to see the slightly mousy features of Rosa leaning on the side of the desk, which rose slightly to accomodate shelves. His chair flexed slightly as he leaned back to look up at her.

"Hi! What'cha doing here?" he asked. It had been months since he'd seen the woman that had trained him long ago, and he smiled despite himself.

"Assignment orders, guess what?"

"Go on," he said.

"You get danger pay. You're off to Altea if you'll go."

He looked at the screen that popped up as she waved a datore over his desk's receptor and pushing the button. "You're kidding."

"Pack your bags, you're a hospital administrator now."

"Oh no, you're kidding?"

"Huh?" she asked, "It's not that bad."

"No, it's the other bit, after that I'm a teacher's assistant in the Nobles' Governance Programme. Fuck my life..."

"Really, you got that one? Lucky sod. That's going to be a laugh a minute. Your own personal comedy show..."

[The Ctan]

The C’tani operation in the Royal Palace was not subtle, with entire rooms, ballrooms, galleries, halls, being annexed for the equipment - seemingly limitless amounts of it - that the outlanders found necessary to so much as walk, with banks of strange devices serving no visible appearance sitting here there and everywhere. Syrian was called into one such room, formerly a concert room, by Lisa, who seemed eager to at least appear to be congenial to him. Dozens of devices stood all around and were occupied by a few dozen C’tani, while one wall was covered in a mesh of metal boxes that seemed set up like they were intended to remain there. The Prince was nervous and wondered if the device had been poisoned and if he had caught it. He waited for Lisa to say he was alright before looking for somewhere to sit.

He, and his minders were paid no real attention as they entered; this was perhaps a novel experience for him, few people either looking up at him, nor deliberately making any move to avoid his attention, quite indifferent to him, only Lisa did so, waving him over to stand beside her.

“So... am I sick, Lisa?” He stood beside her for a moment before taking a deep breath, he was quite nervous that it was some terrible disease that would eat his flesh off his bones.

“Not presently, no, though they did try to make you sick, or the Regent, which is rather more likely,” she said, and a threatening looking polyhedral shape appeared on one of the screens, “unusually sophisticated, related to what we found in Palomecia, but that should come as no surprise.”

“So... it was the Palomecians who tried to get me sick? Or well, tried to get the Elf sick?” Syrian asked, caring perhaps less about the elf man, but wondering what kind of unholy sickness it was.

“The extranatural elements,” a voice said from the computer, “present indicate an intention to infect the regent; it is unlikely that there will be any contamination due to the limited exposure he had to it, it is considerably more likely the Palomecian man may contract the disease.”

“Orren? But Orren’s just a boy. He has no real... aren’t younger kids supposed to be stronger against disease?” He asked hopefully.

“He will die if not treated, and very soon,” the device replied; interested tone in its voice.

“But... I can’t just let Orren die. He’s just a kid.” The Prince pleaded. “What sort of sickness is it, can it be treated?”

“We have not yet fully analysed all means of treating it, with the extranatural elements it will take some time to deal with,” the computer said, and Lisa put a hand on Syrian’s shoulder.

“A kid who would put you and your family at risk.”

“Orren’s not that bright, he wouldn’t think of something so calculating as this.” Syrian said honestly to the woman with a frown.

“Then perhaps the rest of his family?” she asked.

“I can imagine this is the case, but... he’s Aziane’s little brother. I couldn’t imagine he would do something like this without being prompted to.”

“In which case we need to find out who prompted him to before they do so again.”

“Let’s try, but how can I figure out who did, and how can I get it out of Orren? Orren is not a very bright boy. He’s a bit... touched? or... slow?” The Prince tried to look for proper words to discuss it.

“We could just crush the Palomecian leadership and have done with it,” a voice said from behind them, Gaius looking on disapprovingly.

“You have given your word to leave Palomecia alone, to leave Aziane’s Family alone...” The prince turned to face whomever it was.

The handler frowned, “They seem less inclined to leave us alone. As I recall it was only as far as proves practicable.”

“So you deceived me.” Syrian said with a frown. “I take oaths seriously, sirrah, and I do not take a broken oath lightly. ”

Lisa glared, “Enough of your bullshit,” she said, turning to one of the screens, typing on it for a few moments, the image of them on the sofa appearing.

“We won’t harm them for what’s in the past, if that’s what you’re worried about; we will just stop them doing wrong in the future.” The recorded Lisa said.

“But how would you be able to do that?” Syrian’s recording asked blankly. “It’s impossible to do that without keeping in mind what happened in the past.”

“Forgive, but never forget,” she said, “that is how you do it.”

“Forgive, but never forget... some things... just can’t be forgiven and forgotten.” The prince said with a sigh. “It’s not the same.”

“We shall see...” she said in the hologram, and Lisa glared at the prince.

“Do I need to play it again?” the C’tani woman asked as the video rolled on in the background.

“But...” Syrian frowned and seemed deeply uncomfortable. It was never ever good to attempt to harm one’s family. He couldn’t in good conscience allow something to happen to Aziane’s family even if it was something he was aware they did to him. This, of course, made what they had done already beyond what any respectable Altean would do. This however could not grate against his morals even if it was a retaliation. “I will not be involved, and if you do a damned thing it will not be with my blessing.”

“You make this harder on them by refusing to cooperate,” she said, frowning.

“How can I in good conscience cooperate? That is my wife’s family!” He shouted. Perhaps C’tani did not have the same cultural attitudes toward family, which in his mind made them barbarians, but they couldn’t help it, they were foreigners.

“Just a question,” Gaius said, leaning in close behind the Prince, “would you let them hurt your wife with an axe?”

“Of course not. She is my wife.” He said still recognizing that they might have actually attempted to kill him. He was still fiercely in denial that this was the case. It was an accident, unintentional.

“How often do they come and visit her again?” Gaius said.

“She goes home every Summer.” Syrian said with an uncomfortable glance.

“Does she now? Does she enjoy it?” he asked.

“I don’t ask.” Syrian said honestly. “I never do. It’s not... my place.”

“You do suggest she goes though, no doubt?” he asked.

“That she visit her family regularly? Of course, it’s her family after all.” Syrian said with a frown. “Are you actually suggesting that I am at fault because I have not let Aziane visit her family enough?”

“You stupid boy,” Gaius said, “Think harder.”

“I am thinking harder! I can’t understand what you’re criticising me for this time!” He said confusedly.

“How long does she stay?” he asked.

“She stays for a few months.” Syrian said with a frown, now he was feeling guilty as he suspected that he was being blamed for offending Aziane’s family unknowningly.

“I imagine you suggest how long she stays too?”

“I do, why?” Syrian asked uncomfortably.

“You are an idiot, Syrian Messandre,” Gaius said.

“Don’t call me that.” Syrian said angrily.

“Why? You think to be divided from your family?” he asked.

“I hate my father, I have chosen my mother’s name, not my father’s name.” Syrian said annoyedly. “It is Martel, Syrian Martel. I don’t even care that you called me idiot, but don’t call me Messandre.”

“And yet you are so enamoured with the notion of your family that you force your wife and possibly your unfortunate and long suffering child to spend time with the family she obviously hates for months at a time every year. Though at least she’s not being made to take drugs while she’s there so perhaps it’s not so bad, but has it occured to you that if you can tell that her father is a terrible person so can she?”

“I hated him long long before she and I even met in person, how am I supposed to know that she felt in any way similar with me about her father? I mean, I have told her before that I hated her father, but as my wife she is supposed to agree with me if I say to hate someone. I mean, I can’t really think she ACTUALLY hated her father rather than her just saying so out of affection to me?”

“She’s supposed to agree with you?” Lisa said, shaking her head, “And do what you tell her no less. Fucking savages the lot of you.”

“Excuse me? I’m sorry I’m talking with persons who are attempting to goad me on into betraying my wife’s family. The savagery, I’m afraid is something that you, as barbarians should not be lecturing me about. My wife loves me, and therefore my wife agrees with me on things she might not otherwise if she didn’t love me.”

Lisa turned to call up the video of the sick under Palomecia again, “You were saying?”

“I didn’t do that! I would never have approved something like that. It’s horrible and un-Altean.”

“It’s your people doing it, barbarian,” Gaius said from behind him.

“It is not I who have sanctioned it nor would Alteans who are faithful to their name. They are not barbarians, what is going on in Palomecia is more than just un-Altean it is criminal in the Prince’s name. The people are doing this to my people.”

“That name being ‘The Brutal Ones?’” he asked.

“We’re brutal to others, never our own.” Syrian said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “To be brutal against our own makes one Monsters not OUR people.”

“Oh yes, that’s why your wife is terrified of needles and why your own people live in constant dread and why several entire nations have seceded just to get away from your rule...” he sneered.

“They left Altea because they were unfaithful, and disgusting beast fuckers.” The Prince spat. “Don’t conflate the issues. The persons who have done this have made Alteans victims, not the other way around.”

“The persons who have done this are more Altean than anyone else, being Tor, are they not?”

“Are you not an Altean now?” Gaius said.

“Of course I am Altean, and are you saying it is inherent in the nature of Tors to dishonor their Prince and Country? To attack one another? What crap is this?” He asked annoyedly.

“I’m saying you people are incapable of telling right from wrong,” Gaius said, “and I will prove it. What do you think we should do here? With the boy?”

“We talk to him, figure out who has done this to us, try and figure out what the fuck kind of sickness he has been exposed to and has exposed us to.”

“And yet you will not help us, because your appearance of familial probity is more important to you than his actual life is to you,” Lisa said.

“Are you implying that I don’t give a shit about Orren? I just said I don’t want you to hurt him and yet you insist on doing so!”

“You could question him for us, and get much more out of him much quicker - and less painfully - than we could. You could also prove his innocence in all of this, and thus save him from execution, and yet you won’t, because what would the neighbors think? You are a coward, and you are trying to hide from your responsibilities.” Gaius said, “This is why you are not fit to rule a box of sandwiches.”

“That is not true, and I will prove it to you by talking with Orren, but you must let me do so openly. Not under your direction. Between brothers.”

“There is more you should know, too,” Lisa said.

“What is it?” He asked as he massaged his temples.

“Once this disease actually kills someone, it will be added - by law - to our registers of infectious diseases as a priority. Our allies will be alerted of course; once the Menelmacari hear that someone in Palomecia is bio-engineering weapons to kill their kind, they will doubtless want to intervene, either by requesting the Senate deal with Palomecia, or simply by sterilizing the region.”

“You can’t mean...what I think you mean. Hell no.”

“If you want any of them to survive,” the AI said, “you would be best advised to ensure this is handled quickly enough that it doesn’t become a major concern.”

“Consider what the Ealdurimites would do, and then realize that they are lazy and effete compared to Menelmacar.”

“The Menelmacari would murder every Palomecian?” The Prince asked baffled. “No, not a chance, I will absolutely refuse to comply to this order.”

“You did not do so well last time you tried to fight a Menelmacari.”

“Ah, but you forget that I did fight a Menelmacari. A lesser man would not, I did. I will not allow my people to be brutally slain massively either without fighting.” Syrian said with a serious expression.

“And it won’t matter,” Lisa said, shaking her head.

“It matters to me, what would you say if it were your people if we were to punish and murder them off for the acts of wanton criminals? I would not allow it, and that is the end of story.” Syrian said with a grim expression. “Now let me speak to Orren.”

“You will find him in the dungeons, confined in a clean-room we’ve set up there. Do not try and reach through the bars,” the AI said.

“I will, now get out of my way.” Syrian said with this time an angry reproachful look at Lisa. He was sad as he had just began to consider her a friend. He would hate for this to go bad.

As he headed toward the dungeons he took a moment to recollect himself before still denying that Orren or Lord Palomo was attempting to kill him. As he descended he approached Orren’s cell with deep hesitation. He approached the cell, a large room that had been set up with a chicken-wire like mesh through the middle, which flickered with the scent of ozone, and saw the young man seemed to be distressed.

He was wearing his normal clothing but seemed to be disheveled and looked over at Syrian with pleading eyes. His hands had been sliced up and burnt, as he had reached at the wire quite a few times, fairly terrified of what fate awaited him.

“Orren what have you done?” The Prince asked as he seemed to be restraining his horror. “The gift you have given to me, to your Prince and his Regent was poisoned by some sort of biological sickness, and you have... been exposed to it.” Orren’s eyes widened as he spoke in a shrill voice.

“What? I can’t have been, this is impossible. I wouldn’t have done a damned thing like that!” He shouted. “You’re my brother, why would I want to kill you, Your Majesty?”

“I am asking this, Orren. I am.” Syrian asked as he leaned over, staying away from the line indicated. “But, I do not think this is something you have meant to do.”

“I was told not to touch it, but I didn’t have proper gloves today, Papa gave the gloves to Big Brother, and I’ve been just wiping my hands off with my handkerchief. I didn’t know that it was poisoned.”

“So your papa told you not to touch it? Did he know something was wrong with the device?”

“I don’t know, I just know he told me to not touch it, and that he was going to check up on my Brother, but I didn’t think Brother was sick at all. He just hasn’t been home for a while. Has been busy with something. Don’t know what it is, but I don’t ask questions. You didn’t give the thing to Sister, did you?”

“Aziane hasn’t touched it, but I have.” Syrian said with a frown. “I don’t know if it will kill me, Orren, but I hope for your sake that it doesn’t. Or if it does, that you die before I do. There is no mercy with the barbarians.”

“But Brother, I have not attempted to poison you.”

“I believe you...I believe you Orren.” Syrian said with a frown. “I cannot touch you from here Orren, but, know that I would if I could attempt to comfort you, but stop trying to hurt yourself more. I will do whatever I can to figure out what this sickness is and stop it. For both our sakes.”

“Syrian, please!” He shouted and attempted to reach through the wire.

There was a spark of fire against his fingertips where he tried to press them through the wire, burning his skin; naturally the more he pushed the more severe the injury would be. The burns made him scream out in pain once more as he let go, and was sobbing in frustration as Syrian stepped out, he took a deep breath and looked over to see if there was anyone around.

A pair of necron guards stood on either side of the cell, as impassive as statues, while Gaius waited up the corridor.

“Let him go, he didn’t do anything.” The Prince said frustratedly at Gaius.

“He is infected. He is to be held here until we determine the best way to proceed with his treatment.”

“You’re hurting him, he’s slow, he doesn’t understand what is going on. At least turn that goddamned gate off, and let him stay in a more protected room. Do you not see what you’ve done to him already?”

“I will see what we can do,” he said, “Sadly your country has already been doing a good job at filling our hospital ships.”

“Damn it... can’t you at least have whichever damned doctor who would look after me, to look after him? Orren’s innocent.”

“You wouldn’t get priority for a doctor. Who do you think you are? A baby? You’d just get walled up like he is until we have time to deal with you. But we will see about moving him to some kind of airtight room. Maybe on one of the warships.”

“Very well, but... stop hurting Orren, it’s unsightly.” He said with a frown. “It’s like punching a small child.”

“Move along, you have things to do,” he said, “a report to make.”

“What report?” He asked as he looked blank for a moment, the stress from the situation made him deeply uncomfortable and he seemed to not be thinking of the things around him.

“To Lisa, you must tell us what you have found out.”

“Very well, please get out of my way.” He said still bitter about the argument before. He went to find Lisa and sighed in exasperation before clearing his throat to get her attention.

Of course, Gaius didn’t move, forcing Syrian to go around; he always did this. The C’tani paid rather more attention to Syrian as he entered the room this time, and Lisa looked at him, “What did you find?”

“Orren said he had no idea about the poison, and he said he was warned against touching the thing by his father.” The Prince said annoyedly as he looked down at Gaius and motioned for Lisa to step away from him and to discuss a bit more out of the way. This she did, for a change.

“Yes? What else?”

“I do believe that there’s more to it than that of course. Orren said he thinks his brother is not really sick, and that he was sent to come here in his father’s place because ‘they are busy’” He said making quote marks with his fingers.“Busy indeed, and he said he had no proper gloves to handle the device as his brother has his only pair Something Lord Palomo likely knows. The bastard tried to murder his son while killing the Regent in the process”

“I see, does he dislike the son in particular?”

“Orren’s... as I said, Orren’s slow. He’s not quite right in the head. Many say it is because Lady Palomo had, perhaps too much well... it’s not something I should talk about, but they believe Orren is ill in the head and that it cannot quite be cured and this irritates Lord Palomo. Had his wife been less kind than she was, Orren would not have lived to see his eleventh year.”

“Perhaps we should see about his health after this affair is over. He hides it well...” she said.

“He’s borderline on the condition. It’s... something the Palomo family does not like talking about it.” The Prince said with a frown. “It shames the family. It is why I was surprised to see Orren at all today especially on such an occasion rather than Lord Palomo himself.”

“There are some therapies we could possibly persuade him of the merits of...” she said, and then paused, looking up, as Palanedhel entered the room, the elf dressed in a deep green robe of leather and some strange fabric, with a strange collar, and which apparently had some kind of technology built into it.

The Prince gave a deep bow to Palanedhel and then looked over with a sigh at the ground. “My Lord, wishes something of me?”

“What have you found out about this incident so far?” he asked, speaking to Lisa, who briefly recounted only what Syrian had said at first, about the boy’s father being involved.

“It is as my Lady has said, Young Orren had nothing to do with this. Lord Broderick had instructed him to come, and also to bring the token to you, knowing that the device could and would cause harm to his son and you.”

“Good. We shall take his father into custody.”

“Very well,” Syrian said with a sigh. He was a bit more relieved now that he knew that Aziane would not be devastated by the arrest, and was horrified that Lord Palomo would cross the line that should never ever be crossed, which was harming one’s own blood. One’s own family. It was one thing for Lord Palomo to attempt to murder his son-in-law, which was not blood, but a wholly different matter to attempt to murder his own son. He couldn’t even think of anyone doing such a thing... until of course he remembered Heirus, which of course made him even more angry.

“And please tell your damned servants to NEVER call me Messandre under any circumstances. I don’t care how stupid they think I am. NEVER call me that, or I can’t guarantee their safety.”

“I have no servants,” Palanedhel said, “here or elsewhere.”

“I have warned you then.” Syrian said with a frown. “It is done.”

“Do you want to come with me? It should be... interesting.”

“Who me? I... will I be able to do anything?” Syrian asked perplexedly.

“Not really, but it will be an experience for you to have,” the elf said, “It will broaden your horizons a little perhaps.”

“Very well. I think I can do that then, I will come.” Syrian said with a sigh, he seemed to be displeased at the idea that he would not be able to do anything, and would just watch. He was at least relieved that Orren wouldn’t be harmed further.

“Get him suited up, someone, and give the kid a gun,” Palanedhel said, and Gaius raised an eyebrow, waving for Syrian to follow him. Syrian of course obliged and was surprised he was being armed, but he was not displeased. The idea of carrying a weapon made him feel less helpless to the things occurring around him even if it was a pea shooter, he’d feel less like he had been forced to do things against his full will.

The equipment, such as it was, consisted of something that felt disappointingly like silver lycra, under a getup similar to what Palanedhel had been wearing, the gun, on the other hand, was something that looked reassuringly solid, though there was some fuss with it before they handed it over.

Syrian took the gun and holstered it and looked over at the others, wondering what he was supposed to do once he was ready, of course he did not say a word and just leaned on the door frame tapping impatiently, and looked over at the others for a cue.

“We’re waiting on you,” Gaius said, as Syrian attempted to look impatient, “move. The gun is loaded with less-lethal ammunition, but don’t get carried away anyway,” he said, “the armour doesn’t make you invincible either,” he said, passing him a helmet with a frosted faceplate of some thick, transparent material, spider-webbed with cracks in a regular, hexagonal shape.

The Prince followed where he was told to go, and said nothing. He looked over at Palanedhel, and tried to keep his demeanor stone hard, without betraying emotion.

The elf looked at him with an enigmatic look, and pressed one of the buttons on the sleeve of the armour he was wearing, the pair of them, but no others, teleported to a column-lined hall somewhere, several more necrons standing by the wall nearest them, which was inset fractionally. “Welcome aboard,” the elf said, “you really are treated too well, you know,” he said, “I am not sure why I offered to let you come...”

“Perhaps because of my good looks and smashing personal attitude.” Syrian said jokingly. “But truly, I am surprised too, because I get the instinctive vibe that you do not trust me, and I can inform you that the feeling is perhaps more mutual than you are aware of.”

“Given that my job is to curtail your liberties and assault your very sense of self, it is only natural,” the elf said, “I have no especial anger toward you, but of course, you have not yet earned any trust.”

“I have not? I would have thought that taking my time to save your life would be something, but I suppose elves are fickle bastards.” Syrian said in a joking manner as well. “You will find if you’ve earned MY trust that no companion would be a fiercer friend than I, but so far you’ve done a lot of things to undermine my trust of YOU. That said, good to be working with you Palan... Palane... Palanedothel... The thing... I’ll just call you Regent, then.”

“You forget I told you to do that,” he said, “and you have no idea what I’ve done,” he said, pulling Syrian’s helm from his arm and placing it on his head, “Hold still,” he said, as he did so. The cracks were invisible on the inside.

Syrian did as he was told and looked through the helm, and seemed to find it oddly uncomfortable.

It showed a variety of additional information, and seemed to be determined to cram as much information as possible into the corners of his vision, quite weirdly, though not necessarily the information one might have expected; showing things like ‘atmosphere purity’ and ‘radiation levels’ prominently.

“Uhm... what exactly ARE those things.” He pointed out and in the general direction of the images he saw before turning and gasping in surprise. “By Serion’s blood... they MOVE.” he seemed to be incredibly amused by it, and turned seeing how the images moved about when he did.

“Information,” the voice of the same AI said in his ear, as Palanedhel fitted his own helm, “As there is a radiation and biological risk in this mission, the suit you’re wearing is equipped with additional threat detection, I can hide it all if you like.”

“But why, it’s so interesting.” He asked as he tried to wave his hand in front of what he saw was the image to see if he could still see it. Unsurprising to the elf, it did and this amused the hell out of the Prince endlessly. “Hm?” He looked over at Palanedhel and sensed he was more irritated and cleared his throat and returned to the grim stony expression.

“When you are using a firearm, it will also highlight where you will hit if you discharge your weapon,” the AI said, as the elf, meanwhile, was walking toward the necrons, beckoning for Syrian to follow, “You are familiar with pistols I hope?” the same calm, male voice asked.

“I’m better with a sniper rifle, but it is not that difficult to use a regular pistol.” The Prince said with a nod of his head.

“Good, you should find this model not too unfamiliar, it is an autopistol, and you will find the ammunition on the pouches on your belt; load it now and take the safety off.” When he did so, a few instructions appeared in the air around the gun indicating the safety lever and perhaps redundantly, where the magazine went, and then it went so far as to instruct him in chambering a round.

“Alright then...” he started as he took a moment to adjust himself in the suit for a moment as he looked over where he was supposed to go.

“Approach the necron group, and prepare to follow them; they will be teleporting into Lord Palomo’s palace, while other necron groups do so elsewhere,” the voice said.

“Alright then.” He said as he headed towards to where he was indicated to and tried to follow the necron group, finding himself to be quite short compared to them. He stared up at them upwards still feeling a tad intimidated.

A green shimmer covered the wall before them, and they began to step through, Palanedhel walking with them, the other side, the room near the Baron’s office with the birdcages they’d seen before.

The birds seemed to call in protest, and the nightingales seemed to be chirping in fear, but none of them could escape their cage. Syrian followed along, remembering his youth when he visited Lord Broderick’s home. He never really liked it at all in the slightest.

“Proceed to the stairwell,” the AI’s voice said, “neutralize any armed resistance,” and already the others, including Palanedhel were doing so.

The Prince didn’t immediately spot any resistance but he kept sharp, worried that someone might pop around the corner. Unsurprisingly since he knew where everything was, and he knew Lord Palomo’s guards and where they would be, he attempted to avoid the areas where they were and took the shortcut to where Lord Palomo’s office was, and to his surprise found it empty. He then went to the Lord’s Solar and found it empty, and then headed toward the Foyer where he could spot Lord Palomo, but he immediately ducked beneath the staircase, not wanting to be seen first.

Beside him, the elf halted, before stepping out from behind the cover with his rifle on his shoulder, the necrons actually advancing ahead of him.

Lord Palomo did not seem to resist and looked blankly at the Necrons for a moment before frowning with disgust.

“What is the meaning of this? Breaking and entering into my home?” He asked with his hands raised.

“Come,” Palanedhel said in Syrian’s ear, the radio internal only, with no audible sound to any but the two of them.

Syrian nodded as he emerged and attempted to follow, saying nothing.

“You better have a very good explanation for this, or so help me.” The Lord said as he looked over at the figures above. “Who are your superiors? I desire to speak with them.”

“One moment,” the AI said, as the necrons approached, one of them grabbing the Baron and cuffing his wrists behind his back, hauling him to the floor to do so. “You should be safe to remove your helmet...” it added.

The Baron was cuffed and did not resist arrest as he grunted uncomfortably. Syrian removed his helmet as he looked over at Lord Broderick and felt his anger boil over. He tried to withhold his rage and realised he was turning quite pink with anger.

Palanedhel didn’t do anything, for a moment, leaving his visor polarized as the majority of the necrons covered the rest of the room, as others moved in to other parts of the building. He wanted to give Syrian a chance to vent his frustrations.

And vent he did, Syrian walked up to Lord Broderick and slapped the Lord across the face, an insult even more powerful than had he punched the Lord with a balled fist.

“How DARE you try to KILL ORREN you SICK BASTARD! You dishonor your name and you DISHONOR YOUR COUNTRYMEN! How could you DO that to your people, to OUR people and to those innocent men, women and children. IF IT WERE NOT FOR AZIANE I WOULD KILL YOU HERE MYSELF!” Syrian bellowed angrily. “No, no. I will make this as drawn out as possible for what you have done. You will suffer like every one of those parents suffered as they watched their children die of the disease YOU CREATED.”

“My Lord, what in the DEVILS are you talking about?” Lord Broderick asked confusedly. Or it at least looked like he was confused. He seemed to be playing innocence. “I have done no such things.”

“DO NOT LIE TO ME.” Syrian bellowed even angrier as he removed his gun from his holster. “So help me to the God of Wisdom, if you LIE to me I will END YOU.”

“Prince Syrian,” Palanedhel said, “please put your helmet back on for a moment,” he said aloud, “I have a... more amusing notion for you.”

Syrian remembered for a moment that he was being watched, and then took a deep breath and released it. He put the Helmet back on and for a moment screamed in frustration, hoping that the helmet would muffle the sound, which it did.

The elf removed his own, “Hold him, open his mouth,” he said, and one of the necrons wrapped an arm around Lord Broderick’s neck, while another forced his mouth open, fingers working as well as any dental appliance.

The lord was astonished by the group of people forcing his mouth open and he looked over at the Elf with disgust. Palanedhel leaned down and kissed him; with plenty of tongue, a rather intimate and probably most unwelcome attention.

The Lord spat in disgust and gagged for a moment and looked at the elf in rage before screaming. “THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?”

As the necrons let him go, for a definition of ‘go’ that involved handcuffs, Palanedhel gave him a stern look, “Well, young Syrian is a parent he would have you experience what a parent does; I on the other hand, am the victim, and I would rather you experience what I do. Of course, we can speed your metabolism up a bit to bring the effects on quicker, so we can see how you die... it will help treat your son and I.”

“What? What are you talking about?!” He sweat nervously as he looked about at the others for a clue about what was going on, or so it seemed. He was more fidgety than he should be.

“Did you think I’d not know if I were infected? It is not biology that makes my kind immune to ordinary diseases, it is a faculty of spirit if it fails we are certainly... disconcerted by the experience, but you are not the first person to try such things.”

“I... well, if you are infected then it worked?” Lord Broderick asked, his tune slightly changing.

“Indeed. Naturally there will just be another, there are twenty billion to replace me,” he said. “I have no idea what you meant to accomplish.”

“For it to actually work, for one. It means that we can actually sicken elves.” Lord Borderick said with a slightly surprised expression.

Syrian became even more enraged by Lord Broderick’s cavalier attitude the more he spoke, tempting Syrian greatly to beat on him more.

“Why would that be an objective?” he asked, “You are mistaken if you think biological weapons are going to get rid of us. Even if you were somehow to kill every single organic being in our empire, you would still be occupied, albeit punished.”

“How, if everyone in your empire is dead?” He asked.

“Because I will punish you, you smarmy fuck.” Syrian said disgustedly.

“You cannot infect a necron, or a C’tan, or a silicate, and you would be fools to try.”

“There is nothing that is not worth trying if it means eradicating an oppressor.”

“Perhaps I should not have infected you. It would be better to strip you naked and stake you out in a square for your people, with a sign saying that they may do as they wish. Perhaps I shall do that to your son. The one you didn’t try to murder. The we would see if your people think you an oppressor or not.”

“The oppressor is you, knave.” Lord Palomo said acidly. “And I told that blundering dolt to wear gloves. It is his nature to act stupidly.”

“Up,” he said, and the necrons pulled Lord Palomo up to his feet, while the elf looked at Syrian, “It would be best if you did not observe the interrogation.”

“Very well, I will be in the courtyard, I need to think.” The Prince said still feeling immensely sick to his stomach.

“No, come with us, it’s not safe here,” he said, as they marched Lord Broderick up to the room with the birdcages.

“Where shall I go? Syrian asked as he followed the Necrons which directed him. “alright then.”

Lord Broderick still kept an angered expression and tried to keep an eye on his interrogator.

The necrons took him ahead, and into the bowels of the vast ship, before stripping him and fastening him onto a table before a mirror, inclined at an eighty degree angle.

The Lord took a moment to inspect his reflection and attempted to blow his hair out of his face. He was unmoved and emotionally blank.

After a while, a tall necrontyr woman entered the room, her hair a short, severe cut, and her face inked with white swirls, her robes were a deep blue mixed with fugilin black that bled into them here and there like a form of anti-kevonier, and with her she carried a case,which she set on a table and opened.

“Good morning...” she said, regardless of what time it had been for him it was morning to her.

“Who are you?” He asked confusedly.

“I’m Devash, and I will be your pain technician today...” she said.

“What in the heaven’s name is a pain technician?” The Lord asked baffled.

“As a medical technician administers medicine, or a lab technician performs laboratory experiments, well... it’s a little messy but you can imagine what I do I take it?” she asked.

“A torturer. Good, then your people have some sense.” The Lord said dismissively, aware that this was the fate that awaited him for his failure.

“We don’t like that term, you see... people like to say that torture doesn’t work. That is why we give each inmate their own customized pain conceptualization journey, instead...”

“Torture by any other name is still torture. But this is not unacceptable to me, as it is at least of your nature to torture and you embrace it. This is more acceptable to me than someone who denies their true nature.”

“Of course.It is an honoured tradition, in its place. Of course the chief difference between our techniques and torture is that thorough interdisciplinary study we take account of an individual's cultural attachments to align an individual’s journey to their mindset for maximum efficiency and synergy of the conceptualisation process. Ethnocentric bias has no place in our workplace,” she smiled, walking to the mirror and pressing her hand against it, the mirror turning transparent to reveal a room beyond in which the Palomecian Lord’s other son Argus- the one who had in fact had the gloves, and whom he had kept back - was strapped to an identical table, equally naked, with a male necrontyr talking to him. “We understand that familial relations are prized by Tor.”

“Well yes, but you fail to understand that if this was such a big deal, wouldn’t I have given more than a shit about Orren?” He lied slightly and was a bit uncomfortable by the fact that Argus was actually being tortured for his actions. This did not, however magically give the Palomecian Lord a conscience.

“The fact that you dislike the disabled son doesn’t mean you dislike your heir,” she said, “and of course, you misapprehend, it will be a joint journey...” she added, taking a small box from the case, and taking out a pair of pin-like needles.

“Well, at least I won’t be alone!” He said optimistically taunting the Necrontyr. “I’ll take the ruddy bastard down with me, so be it, the Palomo line dies with me.”

This at least caused her to pause, after jabbing the two pins into his cheeks just against the jawline, hardly the most painful thing in the world, and she took a blood sample briefly, conversing in necrontyr to arrange a paternity test for the other prisoner, though naturally that took less than a thrice.

The Lord did only slightly grimace as he looked over at the Necrontyr still with a frown.

“In case you actually thought that he was, it may please or otherwise, you to know that Argus Palomo is in fact your legitimate son, and not a bastard.”

“He is fucking a Nayali, any son that he has will be a bastard, and therefore he is going to be responsible for ending the Palomo line anyway. He knows it, I know it, so again, the line ends with me.”

“This presupposes your other son dies, and of course, ignores your daughter,” she said.

“A woman cannot carry the Palomo line.” The Lord frowned. She will be Queen, and the Messandre Queen, no less. There is no greater honor for her.”

“And Orren?”

“Orren killed himself, by being an idiot as always.” The Lord said cooly.

“He appears to have congenital defects within the scope of our medicine to heal, doubtless when he is able to access such healthcare; if he survives the current infection, he will improve.”

“He what? I doubt that, he was born touched and he will die touched. No one will bat an eyelash and now that the wife is gone, no one will even shed a tear. Aziane won’t even notice he is gone, I think.”

“I suspect you will be shedding some tears over the whole sorry business very soon. Have you ever heard of the prisoner’s dilemma?” she asked.

“Tell me of this thing, for I do not know what it is.” Lord Broderick asked as he looked at Argus with a dismissive glance. At least Argus wasn’t crying like a bitch as he imagined he would.

“Well this is a modified form, essentially your two person pain conceptualization journey consists of being asked questions. When your answers to the questions match up, you will be spared, and when they do not match up, you will both be given negative stimulus. Naturally should you refuse to answer you will be singly given negative stimulus.”

“Interesting, so my refusal to answer will hurt him?”He asked curiously.

“No, but if you answer falsely it will.”

“Interesting, very well, proceed.” Lord Broderick said with a smirk.

She stepped to the side of the room, “What is the name of the person in the other room?” she asked.

"Ser Argus Kendrius Palomo the Third." He said.

“And your own name?” she asked.

“Baron Broderick Castien Palomo The Fifth.”

“Who is the most common correspondent from your aviary?” This question was almost impossible for them both to answer alike.

“My Subjects.” He said vaguely, not a lie.

As with the last two the same question, “Who is your father’s most common correspondent from his aviary?” was asked to Argus.

“I don’t fairly know... I think it’s probably Sandruis, but I don’t know for sure...” Argus said terrifiedly. “Look, I don’t know if I know anything that can help you!” Argus pleaded. He couldn’t hear the boy, but he could sense he was simpering by his expressions. This irritated Lord Palomo. He desired to punish him.

Both torturers moved in at once, the one with the elder Altean pulling a glove onto her hand, touching him on the hand, which sent waves of pain into his nerves, while the one with Argus injected him with something in the opposite wrist, and made a small pin-prick, the drug used giving it a far greater apparent sensation than it would otherwise have had, more like being stabbed.

The Young Palomo Lordling shouted in surprise, and his father screamed as he took a long gasp.

“Y-YESS... This is how I imagined it. Yes!” Lord Broderick shouted. “Pain... this is bad.” He said not all that convincingly.

Devash’s eyebrows raised slightly, “Next question, what is your relationship with the Order of the Flame?” she asked, while the other torturer asked his son something similar.

“The Order of the Flame is a respected institution since before the Origin of the Palomo Household.” Lord Broderick said. “We are faithful believers of Serion.”

Argus gasped. “Please, I’m telling the truth, what is it that you want to hear?” He begged. “The Order of the Flame is the opposing sect of the Allied Faiths of Serion, where I am already anointed as a Knight within.”

“Your father’s relationship, not yours,” the interrogator with Argus said.

“I don’t rightly know, he’s a Serionite just as faithful as any, perhaps more conservative than I, so it would not surprise me if Papa was originally an Orderite. I don’t know though, and he never opposed my Anointment into the Knighthood of the Allied Faiths of Serion, which I imagine he would have were he a sectarian.”

This time their answers - noncommittal affirmation of the god himself - matched well enough.

“Are you aware of the significance of a watch you gave to Orren recently, as a gift for the Regent, and could you explain it?” Ilansan asked Argus.

“Father asked me to pick up a watch in the local clockmaker’s place, I wasn’t supposed to ask questions about it as to why. He gave me Orren’s gloves. Told me to wear it along with a face mask, to tell the clockmaker that I’ve caught a cold, and that was why I needed it. I was supposed to spray it with something, and bring it home. I didn’t want to do it, so I just went home, and I gave it to Father, he sprayed it with whatever it was after he whipped me for disobedience. I left and went to Nimrie’s home. That’s all I know.”

“What did Argus know of the watch?” Devash asked, meanwhile.

“He was the one who designed the disease, and he happily helped me by picking up the watch at the Clockmaker’s and then when we got it home he sprayed it and helped me wrap it to send it to the Regent’s.” He deliberately lied, as the watch was in fact not wrapped and also Argus did not have a hand in making the disease. He was a Linguist, not a biologist.

Devash trailed her fingertips along the Lord’s chest, the device modulating itself a little downward to avoid interfering with his heart, which meant she applied substantially more overall sensation, while the torturer with Argus applied a small metal plate above the wrist; heated at its current temperature it was far from harmful, but under the influence of the drugs with him felt like being scalded.

Argus screamed in pain and tried to keep from crying but it was high impossible and his was breathing hard attempting to stop the tears from pouring down his face. By contrast Lord Palomo moaned in pain and was breathless as he tried to keep his composure.

“In what manner did your son assist in creating the disease?” Devash asked, while the other interrogator asked a similar question of how Argus had assisted in preparation of the disease.

“He made it obviously in the Serionite free access laboratories.” The Lord lied deliberately.

“I didn’t, please, stop this, have mercy! Have Mercy!” Argus screamed.

They closed in again, this time, for Argus, a tiny incision was made on the back of his finger, which felt far worse than it was, while Devash proceeded to step back his father, pausing briefly to return to her tools.

Argus shook from the pain, as he began to feel his willpower sucked away. He didn’t know what answers they wanted, and as he told the truth he was in no way giving them the answers they wanted to hear. He was getting tired and panicky while Lord Palomo seemed to be dismissive of each painful act.

The necrontyr woman came back with a strange vial, which she connected to a needle.

Lord Palomo looked up at the woman and seemed to be keeping his eye upon the video he saw of Argus and it made him even more upset. Tiny slices and touches and the boy was crying like a woman. It made him furious.

“You rather seem to be enjoying my attentions,” the necrontyr woman said, tutting disapprovingly as she took a sleek black cloth and laid it over his eyes.

He frowned for a moment before speaking up. “You don’t disappoint. You are truly a master of your art. I imagine that there will only be worse to come forward. If I didn’t hate you, I would respect you.” Lord Broderick said with a smile.

She pushed the needle into his chin, under his jaw, below his tongue, pulling the gun-like injector’s trigger, something that made his entire jaw ache and throb and seemed to stop him speaking easily.

He could feel the horrid sensation, and he could feel drool dribble down his chin, this again didn’t seem to bother him as much as it should.

Hours passed, the sensation of cloth on his face becoming a stifling heat and stolidity as the necrontyr woman had apparently left him quite, quite alone, with only a slow, rushing roar of some kind of vent system nearby and the very occasional change in pitch as the flow cycled.

This did not bother Lord Broderick that much, as it seemed to him that it was like that one time he experimented with burning hot coals.

On and on it went; it passed beyond any possible time for the experience to last, clearly the influence of some drug, but all the same, it served to flush endorphins and adrenaline, a cold shower from the inside, and a tedious and probably even to him unwelcome sensation of time stretching within one’s own head in one.

He panted after a while, wanting some sort of water, but kept the desire to himself.

When she took the cloth from his face, the light stung like the first light seen by a newborn, and the sensation slowly passed, as the necrontyr woman turned around in achingly slow motion, the sensation of time passing was largely an illusion, and he could experience very little as the time passed, think very little, too. He could not even look around very easily.

His breath was uneven and varied between shallow and far too deeply to the point his chest was heaving. He closed his eyes and could feel the weakness in his hands. He knew what pain truly felt like, but it was not over yet. He was still alive, and there was so much more they could do to him. He was already facing an executable offense and he already confessed. They could easily torture him to death, and they would be doing no wrong. So he merely watched feeling as if he had dissociated himself from his body.

“Next question,” she said, as she spoke, speeding up, as his senses adjusted, “What does the acronym DNA stand for, in common?” the same question was of course, put to Argus.

“Deoxyribonucleic acid.” Lord Palomo said, bewildered for a moment and Argus looked at the Necrontyr and spoke uncertainly.

“Deoxy-Deoxyribonucleic a-acid. Are you... please mercy...” Argus said almost begging.

The mirror frosted, and the torturer with him looked at him, “That is the end of your pain conceptualization journey,” he said as he packed his equipment, “Please feel free to fill in a service user feedback form.”

The knight gasped in short breaths as he tried to move, and couldn’t. He took a deep breath and looked at the Necrontyr confusedly.

“It becomes clear that there is no useful information to be extracted from you,” he said, taking the case, “so you will be moved back onto prisoner holding.”

“Please... let me go...” Argus moaned as he attempted to get up, and did not seem to have enough strength or willpower to escape his bonds.

A pair of necrons entered, and released his wrists, and then his neck, chest and legs.

He didn’t move, even if he could, he wanted to recollect some of his strength and his shattered dignity.

They helped him to his feet, and held him between them as they took him down the corridor to a large white room, evidently a cell of some sort, surprisingly comfortable, in contrast to the torture chamber.

Argus flopped upon the floor and just lie there, he didn’t move for as long as he was left there. His eyes wide and his body shaking.

After a short time an elven woman stepped into the cell, dressed in white, kneeling down beside him and rolling him onto his back, holding his wrist lightly and cleaning and dressing his wound.

His lips mouthed the words “Mercy”, but he uttered no sound as he recoiled from her touch before he realized she wasn’t going to torture him more. He was aware that there were those among the foreigners who would conceivably torture a man to death without remorse. In this case it was something he realized was likely. They seemed fairly unconcerned about the truth of his answers, after all.

“There there,” she said, “do you want help getting onto the bed?” she asked, holding him lightly.

“Please don’t hurt me!” He weakly said as he tried to not move. “Please, just execute me and be done with it.”

“We won’t execute you. We will not torture you again either.”

“You’re... you’re lying. Please, just be done with me. Be done, I want no more. No more!” He pleaded.

“It’s not a lie, I won’t hurt you,” she said.

“What do you want from me? Please, I’ll do anything. Just let me...let me...” He stammered for a moment.

“You will be let go eventually, we don’t want anything from you, though you could get dressed...”

“They... they’re going to let me go?” He asked. “They’ll they’ll... but why? Why then... why?” He asked a few times as he tried to hug himself for a moment. He reached for his clothes and tried to put it on quickly and silently. He then pressed himself as close to the wall as possible.

“We are sorry. We were investigating your father, and his attempts to kill the regent, and thousands of innocent people. We thought you knew a lot more about it than you did,” she said, seeming distressed at the error, if only a little.

“I didn’t do anything! I didn’t ask questions. I don’t want any part of this. I can’t... please I’ve got to get out of here. For the love of mercy get me out of here, they’re going to kill me. The... the MEDICINE, it tears me apart like a real blade. It burns like being branded with a hot iron. It shreds and... gods, no I’ve got to get out of here. You’ve gotta get me out of here!”

“Okay, I’m going to take you to the Imperial City, is that okay?” she asked.

“I want to go home. I want to go back, to Nimrie. Take me to Nimrie.” He said staggered.

“Who is Nimrie?” she already knew of course, but wanted to hear him say it.

“I was with he- Oh Gods they didn’t take away Nimrie did they?” He asked horrified. “It’s all my fault!” he burst into tears, worrying about Nimrie.

“Humm. The girl whose house you were in? She is under observation, but still at home,” she said, “you can call her if you like.”

“I need to call her right away. Please, excuse me.”

She left his cell; the phone was actually meant to be used as video and was built into the wall; already calling by the time he’d found it, showing her name and number instead of a picture.

“Nimrie, by the Gods are you alright?”Argus asked frantically.

“What’s gotten into you, what happened when those things dragged you out?”

“Nimrie, they didn’t hurt you did they?” He asked still hyperventilating.

“I’m fine, wait... what is going on?” She asked worriedly.

“Nimrie, I’m calling because I love you. I don’t know if I am getting out of here, but they said I might. I don’t believe them.” He said quite honestly. “I think they’re going to kill me. So, if anything happens to me, know that I love you, and I want anyone who says otherwise to know these are my words.”

“Argus... please tell me what’s going on!” She was now very worried. He hung up and took a deep breath and looked around the area. He tried to get a sense of the area, to see if there was a way out, to escape.

There were three rooms, a bedroom with the sitting area he was at, a toilet with a shower area,and a small kitchenette; which used an unusual, safe, cooking apparatus. The only other door was unlocked though it soon opened again, the elf lady and two necrons stepping through.

He looked through the kitchenette and panicked looking for whatever he could grab to defend himself. He took what he found and prepared to do whatever he could to escape.

“Put the fork down Argus,” she said, “we’re taking you home.”

“I’m not going to, not again! I’ve had enough. Enough! You can’t take me, not again! I won’t be going.”

“Home. To Nimrie?” she asked, “Don’t you want to go?”

“I.... I wanna go. I don’t... please let me go. Step aside slowly, and... let me go. I don’t want it any more.”

“Put the fork down, and we’ll go,” she said.

“Leave me alone!” he threw the fork down and bolted toward the door attempting to avoid them. “Don’t touch me!”

Naturally, both the security agent and the necrons attempted to hold the young knight, aiming to throw and pin him.

He was thrown roughly to the ground and pinned.

“NO! LEAVE ME ALONE! I WON’T DO IT ANYMORE!” He screamed, kicked, bit, and flailed wildly.

“Ow! Quit biting me!” she said, as she held him, trying to be gentle, and one of the necrons pulled his head back a little as they slipped a pair of cuffs onto him.

He was finally subdued and immediately dead weighed in protest, not wanting to be dragged off to be tortured once more. He locked up and tried to not be moved.

They fitted him with some kind of collar, too, like an animal, before taking him back down to Palomecia using the teleporter they’d abducted him with; though soon they were carrying him in the open air at least.

He looked listlessly into the sky as he expected he probably was going to die soon, and he was mentally preparing for the horrific pain of it. He already knew what it felt like to be slashed and burned like a tree, but he imagined it was probably going to be hanging that awaited him, like a common criminal. Or worse... He’d be put to the casket for treason. It made him shudder to even think about.

Soon however, they were actually home, or at least, Nimrie’s home.

[The Ctan]

He blankly stared around the area, her home was still mostly undisturbed, and it was still in the nastiest most unsavory location in Palomecia. The house was of course in a tight alleyway where drying clothes were hanging from between the tenements. There was significant trash about, the putrid fested odor of the area smelling of sickness and death. There was a man who was still vomiting from sickness in the corner away from her home. The houses were cluttered with people; men, women, and children who occupied the temporary shelters to avoid the city guards. Camping near or inside the city limits was forbidden trespass which was punished by assault or death. The travelers therefore squished into some of the old abandoned buildings for shelter. Thankfully there was little to no rain, and at the moment, no blustering sandstorms. The scorching sun however was a concern, and so too was the potential for heat exhaustion.

As Argus knocked frantically upon the familiar door, about six little red headed girls emerged from the house, some still confused, others recognizing the strange handsome Tor Lord that their Cousin or Sister had managed to charm into love with her. Nimrie was a plain woman, oddly enough, not entirely unique in appearance among Nayali women. She had red hair that was long and woven into a long plait and it went all the way down her back. She wore the normal fashion among Palomecians, with the loose flowing robe like garments, and a veil that draped over her shoulders to cover her face should the sands cut through the area. Her eyes were a soft green color that seemed to betray a sense of worldly wisdom, lacking makeup. Her eyes widened as she spotted the young Palomecian Lord, and she had no idea who the people around him were. Naturally the two necrons were hard to mistake though. She ushered some of the children in the building as she seemed to call to the few others which were still scurrying about.

She was in public, so niceties were needed to be observed to keep up appearances. She knelt before Argus, and bowed her head.

“My Lord? You’ve come at, an odd time.” She said openly, and in her own language, she spoke to the Lord. “Yna oui ymnekrd? Oui cyet dryd drao fana....”

He looked over at the others and they seemed to understand her, but naturally the normal Tor did not. He, on the other hand did. He nodded his head and said nothing.

“If we may go inside? My friends here will wait outside,” the elven woman said of the necrons, as they released him, as he finally seemed able to stand unaided, if she had any reaction to the squalor of the area, it didn’t immediately show, she was too busy trying to look inoffensive.

“Oh, of course, Dear Lady, my home is your home.” She said, not recognizing the elven woman, believing that the elf was possibly a new servant or perhaps one of those who had been holding him captive before. It was hard for her to say, however. To her most elves looked the same.

It would be easy enough to confuse her with some kind of servant, as her suit was relatively plain, and as she stepped inside, and watched the door close, she smiled a little, obviously forced. “I am very sorry that we made the mistake of detaining your partner...” she said.

“P-Partner, oh, you mean his Lordship? Oh, I... it is not what it looks like. It’s just...” She started Nervously as she looked to Argus for confirmation. After all it could deeply harm his honor either way, he was still the Lord’s Son.

“Nimrie... be at ease.” Argus said with an expression that still looked pained.

“It’s not?” she asked, in confusion, “You’re not his mother, so I imagined you must be...”

“That is absolutely not the case... I am his... his subject. That would be otherwise utterly inappropriate.” She stammered.

“She is my lover, now leave Nimrie alone. You are scaring her.” Argus said glumly.

“I’m sorry if I’m scaring her,” she said, removing the handcuffs, “I don’t want to scare innocent people, but I do need to help you.”

“I don’t wanna die. I don’t want Nimrie hurt, I want to... to be left alone. Are you going to...not hurt me anymore?” He glanced at Nimrie. “If you do so in front of Nimrie or her family I won’t forgive you.”

She looked at Nimrie, “I’m sorry, is there a way we could send the children away for a while? I’d like to explain,” she said, knowing the children would listen no matter what the adults did, but at least the adults would feel better.

“Be off with you now, go. We need alone time.” Nimrie said as she dismissed the children and closed the doors and windows, burning a sweet sage smudge to get rid of the putrid scent. “What exactly is going on and who are you?” She asked the elven woman.

“My name is Callë nos Fingolfin, and I am the regional supervisor of the C’tani Intelligence agency,” she said, “your lover’s father implicated him in a plot to assassinate our regent and the crown prince...”

“Oh God, what did you do?!” She screamed as she looked at him frantically and lost a bit of her self-control, and slapped him. “You are going to be executed, what on earth were you thinking?”

“I didn’t... I swear! I just... I didn’t say anything. You know how my father is. You know what he did to Heirus and he was the bloody Son of the King. What makes you think he wouldn’t do something far worse with me? I.... just didn’t say anything. Kept quiet. I didn’t want any trouble so...”

“So now you’re implicated in High Treason!” She shook quite visibly. “DENY IT!”

“My lady, please calm down,” the elf said, calculating no one called Nimrie that, “if you are incautious the neighbors may hear.”

Her pitch and voice fell in volume quickly, and she could feel her breath quickening and her heart racing.

“Tell me, you must tell me, Argus... how much did you do? What have you done?” She asked.

“I... procured the device... that was meant to poison the King and his Regent.” He said slowly.

She looked over at the elf and then to the Lordling. “It’s done then... they know and... you’re...”

“I don’t know. They said I would live, but this was after...indignities. I do not know how sincere it is, but we mustn’t forget who Syrian is. He will get vengeance, and I... am not going to be able to walk away from it.” Argus said as he slightly twitched.

“You have been involved in a crime but we are not Alteans, and we will protect you, and your family,” she looked at Nimrie, “if needs be. It is... unlikely... you will be executed.”

“I...but am I not a conspirator to commit murder?” He asked still doubtful. “And... oh god Orren... What has happened to my brother?”

“The regent sensed something was amiss, and made the boy open the watch in the Hall of Heroes...”

“So... my brother is dying?” Argus asked astonished.

“Yes, we will do what we can to help him, which is why we decided to apply... unusual methods to your father and you in the hope that we might be able to obtain information on a cure.”

“So that is what was happening with my father?” He asked confusedly. “Please tell me they have found a cure of some sort. My brother... he is a bit slow but he is the only brother I have.”

“Not yet, no, though anything you know about the sickness would be helpful,” she said, “it is likely the same as has been in this area, too, from what I saw outside.”

“The poison... it was in a small bottle that contained the markings of the Citadel. It is an old symbol of the Order of the Flame. The bottle was filled with liquid that was a clear color, but... I don’t remember other than that it needed to be handled with gloves because it seeps through the skin. When I came back, I thought Orren would be home but...”

“We will make sure he doesn’t die of it,” she said, “we have ways of preserving life even against the most serious infections. But do you know which particular branch or sect that symbol may be related to?”

“There are three major Serionite Temples here. There’s the Allied Faiths Temple which is beyond the riverside, there’s the Citadel, which is by the old Windmill, and then there is the Colosseum, which is by the West Entrance. The Citadel and the Colosseum are both Orderites from the Order of the Flame. Sectarians...”

Their previous investigations had shown that the windmill is a distribution site for toxins and the mention of it raised Callë’s eyebrows, “That is actually most helpful,” she said, “If I may have a moment,” she said, staring vacantly into space as she held something against her ear.

“Please, if there is anything I can do to help Orren... I can’t just stand back and let my little brother die.”

“Is there anything else you know about the Citadel? You are a knight? What kind of defences do they have there? How extensive are the attached facilities?”

“The Citadel is guarded heavily, by Orderites from Kashion itself. The Citadel is an older facility and has been a center for study for years. There are various people who enter the Citadel, there are the inducted Order of the Flame Orderites who forbid other Serionites from entering the Threshold of the Far Western Corridors, but those are supposed to be specifically for research of some kind.”

“Have they increased in number in recent years?” she asked.

“In times of trouble, people flock to the Churches and temples for guidance. It is not uncommon in extreme times for the Order of the Flame to have a stronger resurgence of members for their deeply conservative views, but... I can’t say I would notice with the many people praying for deliverance from the evil of the Necrons and Beastmen.”

She smiled a little, as though the very notion of evil necrons was a joke. “Much increase in traffic rom Kashion perhaps?” she asked.

“Ah, yes... there has been quite a few Kashionites arriving from the North to bolster the defenses of Palomecia, as many suspect that the Surrender of the King means we will become slaves to the elves.” Argus said with a frown. “Ealdurimites are not perhaps the greatest example of elves, but never had I thought Menelmacari would cast their gaze down here in this gods forsaken hole.”

“I am not a Menelmacari, I am a C’tani. Neither Menelmacari nor we have slaves.”

“You don’t know the elves then. Were it not us who enslaved them, it’d be they who’d enslave us. This is something you likely know, even if you are not a slaver of C’tan nor Menelmacar.” The Lordling said with a furrowed brow.

“We seek no slaves, and have none,” she said, “to have your way of life altered is unpleasant, but it isn’t slavery.”

“Heh heh heh... you either are naive or don’t know elves.” He said pointing at her ears. “What deceptive magic is this in that you believe that we do not see Ealdurim’s hand in this madness?” The Lordling asked rhetorically.

She looked at him, with a curiously detached thousand yard stare, as if traumatized.

“You mean... you don’t know?” The Lordling’s green grey eyes widened.

“Amuse me child,” she said, after a moment.

“Truly you have no idea that the Ealdurimites would gladly occupy, sack, rape, and overcome Altea and enslave men women and children given the chance?” The Lordling asked. “This... this is the perfect opportunity to do so, with the King being indisposed, and Elf friends running the Occupation of our people. You think such a thing would not be thought of at all? ”

She laughed, a clear, musical sound, delighted in this idea, but without any malice, as if it were some mummer’s foolery.

“That is not funny, it is utterly barbaric, but that’s elves for you.” The Lordling said with a sigh.

“It is well that you’re not going to be a lord of anything, you are a fool,” she said, “do you truly believe that we would give you up to others just because they might ask it of us?” she shook her head, “what would we gain by it that we do not gain from ruling you directly?”

“Obviously greater ties with the elves in the region.”

“Who are worthless layabouts without any redeeming features we’ve been able to discern.”

“They’re elves. Doesn’t racial pride matter to you people?” The Lordling asked confusedly. After all, he was not the one to be saying such things given that his lover was Nayali, and his reputation would be quite ruined if that got out.

“No,” she said, “culture perhaps, but their culture is nothing but a debased echo of what they should be. If anything we’re more likely to conquer them than help them. You will understand this better in time, when you know us better.”

“I do not know if this day will come before I am killed my Lady, I imagine you know what there are supposedly large scale targetings of Noble Patrons and noble families. Not to mention, I was accused of High Treason by one of the most morally insane persons I know. Which is saying something since I know the worst sort.”

“We are targeting noble families?” she asked.

“SOMEONE is, did you not notice that my grandfather was slain not two moons ago?” The Lordling asked rhetorically. “Or perhaps you did not notice the Butchering of the House of Lords?”

“Oh, that hardly matters,” she said “in any case, you will be beyond their reach.”

“Beyond... their reach? Furthermore... you are stripping me of my titles? Did I hear this correctly?” The Lordling asked astonishedly, believing before that he perhaps misheard.

“You would prefer a casket of needles?” she asked, “I am told that is traditional.”

He shuddered for a moment remembering the slicing of his hand under the influence of the medicine, and the wounds he was subjected to under the torture.

“I... would not...” He looked over at Nimrie reproachfully. “Forgive me, Nimrie... I know this is not what you’d hope for...” He hung his head in shame. “Perhaps... It may be better this way, but... my father has won, it seems.”

“There are no nobles where I would have you go.”

“I am exiled then?” He asked with a shudder in his mind. He had already been dishonored and his life was utterly ruined. Everything he had hoped for, any dreams he may have had were all cast aside. It would seem that the torture wasn’t over after all. “Exiled, shamed, stripped of titles, and now... what more? Is this the last time I am going to see Nimrie again? Will I not be able to bury my brother when...” He felt his emotions hitting him very hard. “Oh God, I haven’t even... Aziane... she will hate me.”

“She will be told that you helped us,” she said, “but you must understand, we wish to do this for your own good, not to punish you, truly,” she paused, “what is it you dream of, both of you?” she asked.

“I am a Knight of Serion, I have worked hard my entire life to remove the horrid festering of my father’s cruelties to my name. I have struggled very hard to try and climb the ranks, to be more than just a Lord in my Family, but one that the Smallfolk could respect. So now, all of that would have been for naught, because now I am not a Lord, I am a nobody, and nothing will replace all the time it took to build a rapport with the people who don’t trust others. Something I think you can’t quite understand. When my father died I’d hope to repair relations between men, to be able to get past racial barriers, cultural barriers. I can’t even do that now. I am no one again.”

She looked at Nimrie, expectantly.

“I don’t usually plan for the future. I usually do things and see what happens. It’s how we live our lives among the Nayali. We don’t generally have legacies we don’t usually leave a trace on History, and anything we do will be forgotten eventually. With this, I cannot truly understand how Argus feels, but I know his anguish is real.”

“Very well, what I was going to offer was a settlement, technically, to avoid a trial, from which you might be executed, by which you and anyone who wished to come with you, would be re-settled in our Empire. If you wish, though, there is another way...”

“I don’t know all the options, so what choices are there?” The young man asked as he placed his head in his hands, feeling the stress hitting him once more.

“Well justice must be done, so we cannot simply allow you to go free, you could... prove your moral innocence before a court.”

“I could not go before a kangaroo court, there is no justice to be found there.” He sighed and sat down and tried to ponder the terrible options before him.

“Well, not a court per se...” she said.

“What then shall I be subject to?” Argus asked.

“Given the compromised nature of any trial involving you, we would have to request the C’tani senate try your case directly.”

“And my chances there would likely be like being tried by Forntians or Ealdurimites?”

“I do not think so. Why would Forntians have a bias against you?”

“I am a Serionite. This is like asking why an orc should not be able to try an Elf. To do so would be madness.” The Lord said with a frown. “Some Forntians care not even if you are kind, but only that you are not one of them.”

“I see... well, you have done nothing to the C’tani, and we have no grudge against you; if anything they will probably feel guilty that you were tortured for nothing.”

“Are you saying they did not delight in doing so?” The Lordling seemed to be not entirely convinced. “I... don’t think I would have a fair trial, but... the worst I could lose with either of these two scenarios are the same thing. Either I lose the life I have worked so hard for, or... I lose the only life I’ve ever had, or ever will have.”

“Pretty much. The only other way to do it would be to submit a plea for a presidential or public pardon; and neither is very likely.”

“I need time to think of this... I can’t decide right now, can I have time to think?” He asked the elven woman with a sting of nerves still striking him.

“Of course, don’t try to flee,” she said, as she stood, “or remove the bracelet. But otherwise you may have a few days...” she said, leaving him a card.

He took the card for a moment and he sighed as he took a moment to just hold Nimrie, now that he was given a chance. Either way he looked forward to ruin and loss. There was still nothing he could see that was positive about either options. Surely he could live, but the cost would be great, and he might as well have been banished, and just given up everything in his entire life, except of course for a chance to live freely with Nimrie, but this would rely on her will to go to a completely different land, and leaving most of her family all her culture behind. He could not ask that of her, and yet he craved asking.

He even imagined that this was horribly unfair for her, as she had expected that she would have a chance to be the lover, lady or concubine of a Lord, and not a wife of a complete nobody, and someone whose shame forced him forever from his home. It was so deeply unfair to her to expect that mere love would overcome such enormous burdens. He would speak to her tonight, but he suspected it would not be a pleasant conversation.

The elf and the necrons both left, and if Callië had any worries about his fate she put them out of her mind as she looked for the man who had been vomiting on the street corner, hulking bodyguards with her.

The man who was infected with the sickness lay beside a dumpster, and still had not left at all from the position he had been in before retching over the gutters instead. She leaned down next to him, resting her hand on his forehead, “Hello, young man, can you hear me?” she asked.

She could feel a burning heat upon his forehead, indicative of a fever. He looked over at her and seemed to be confused by her words.

“It’s not often an elf comes here.” He said as he tried to control his gagging. “I have the plague, leave me to die.”

“What you meant to say there was ‘get me to a hospital,’ wasn’t it?” she asked, as she ordered an ambulance.

“I can’t afford it, I’m not going to make it either way, it’s been two days, I can barely breathe. Just... let me...” He looked dizzily at the wall and retched but only threw up bile.

She grinned, “Come on, let’s get you up,” she said, holding him by the shoulders.

He didn’t resist, but he didn’t have much strength to get to his feet. He was quite heavy compared to her as well due to his height.

This wasn’t a great problem, as she passed him on to one of the necrons after a moment, crossing her arms and looking around, “Who else has this sickness?”

“Only a few people from the undercity, but... I can’t say there are many of us left.”

She was relieved at least that that was where he came from, breathing a sigh of relief; at least they hadn’t poisoned him elsewhere. Which didn’t mean there were other elsewheres.... “I’ll all be fine,” she lied, “Let’s get you to help,” she said.

[Bafsk]

The Duchy of Mordovia

It was early morning beneath the warm sun. The rooftops glistened with dew from the rains in the previous night, and the gentry class were waking to the bells of the Temple in the distance. Young boys were preparing to go to school, with their uniforms and books in hand. Their fathers and mothers giving them their lunch as they headed to the bus stop, and they would be led to the nearest Serionite Temple, where Professors would teach them how to read, write, and also of the physical world around them. They’d learn the history of their fathers and the forefathers before them, and debate with wonderful enthusiasm the curious aspects of modern society, as the Templar would listen and encourage questioning of the values and beliefs in their society. The laughter and lightheartedness was a simple world where outside the temple there was of course one that presented much more complex troubles.

Beyond the Mordovian hillands and across the quiet towns there were clearly more stories to be told than the smiles and laughter that were had by young Tor boys of the gentry class. Why just a few blocks away a young girl just about their age was working with her mother with a washboard as she hung up her laundry with clothespins between the narrow clustered tenaments which were loud and dirty. The people were still sickened and afraid, and some rambling about the time the city was filled with bombs about to be blown sky high. Some believed it was a coverup to disguise the Local Duke Razsler’s disappearance in the middle of a busy workday. The “new Duke” they say was a young lad, a security guard for a local factory where young boys and girls used their small withering hands to fashion tools that the gentry would purchase. They claimed all ownership to the factories and therefore the children would of course have to pay to work in the factory, but were given a meager wage for their trouble.

It was better to do so and be able to bring bread home rather than to starve in the streets, many said which had become much less common since they arrived. Enormous men and women and some with strange features not of this world, bearing a symbol that seemed like a strange rune of magic and fire. “Such strange people,” the commoners thought, “But so beautiful and exotic they seem.” they had a sense of compassion that seemed to be far unworldly. The strange people were becoming more and more blended into the cities and towns and by most commoners, they began to see them as agents of the crown. That is what was said, at least. A strange thing that these people did not seem to be Altean, but they certainly weren’t unwelcome in the wide spans of the land rented by the peasantry.

A tall woman bought a loaf of bread in the market, her long silvery tendrils were braided and woven, and fell behind her back, and she had a pair of beautiful blue eyes. Not an aged woman, but a Qaglenek carrying a basket for keeping the bread out of the hot sunlight. She took out a few gold currents, and was curious to see if they were of any value still, and looked over at the other market stalls, a shawl draping over her shoulders kept her light skin from being exposed to the sun. She was surprised again to notice the decreased presence of the local guards. Near the bread stands she noticed a young boy lingering in the shadow. He was small and Nayali, and seemed to have no one watching him. Her maternal instincts immediately gave her concern especially as she saw that people just walked past him, noticing that he was wasting away, and terribly thin. The boy eyed the bread hungrily as he then reached deftly attempting to steal a piece. This was not missed by the stand owner who was watching the boy carefully. They were hyperaware of the Nayali, as they were considered a criminal sort, or at least prone to criminality. As he grasped the boy with a firm hand the boy let out a shrill cry. The woman immediately attempted to engage the shopkeep.

“That’s enough! Haven’t you got more important things to be doing? The kid is...”

“A thief. And as thieves go, he’s just the sort that should be going back to the cold cells he ought to be in.”

“Stop this madness and give the boy the bread, if you’re worried about money, here. Five gold currents is enough for the bread and more. Just let this be and don’t call the police here. He’s just a boy.”

“I’m sorry Ma’am.” The boy said after he ravenously devoured the bread with exhaustion.

“A thief is a thief, and your compassion will end up getting you stuck off in trouble. I’m calling the guard, I am.”

“Come here boy, what’s your name?” The woman asked.

“Terris.” He said, “I’m not going to get you into trouble.” He said tiredly “At least I might find a bed somewhere this way. Maybe even food.”

“Are you joking, won’t they....”

“Haven’t been hanging thieves recently, they say. Something about the agents of the crown.” The boy said. “Maybe I will get a bed for the night.”

“No, no, we can’t have... oh shit.” the woman said as the guard were mustered, and they seemed to have that strange symbol on their chests. “Agents... of the crown?”

The guards in question would have been annoyed by being called such, having arrived in the marketplace in a variety of strange vehicles; some seemed to be almost entirely sealed, others merely flying boxes mounting guns of some sort. They had however, not taken any action since arriving, content to disembark and talk amongst themselves ten in all, quite why they were in the market was unclear, as they did not seem to be policing it.

“You there! Are you part of the Imperial Guard?” The baker asked as the woman tried to step behind the boy, but then felt compelled to stay even if her instincts called for her to run.

“No,” the woman in question said, half turning to regard them as they approached, looking down at the boy. She wore a suit of armour based heavily on Menelmacari design, though using somewhat altered systems, more art deco than high elven, “I am an orderite.”

“Even better. We’ve caught ourselves a thief.” The baker said with a frown. Tried to steal right off the stand. The nerve of him, not even respecting the law and brazenly stealing off my stand.”

“I am not sure I know what you are talking about,” she said, “why is his mother following him then, instead of you know, walking the other way?” she gestured.

“Oh... sorry ma‘am, this woman is not my mother. I accidentally got her dragged into this.” The boy said with a bow, his long red hair was pulled into a leather strap pony tail that seemed to have been picked off something. His clothing was worn and his pants were too short and tore at the edges with a few worn holes at the knees.

“Well I expect he probably is a thief, what proof do you have that he did it?” she asked.

“I bloody well saw him and caught him meself.” The baker said as he gestured at the woman. “She saw it too, but tried to pay it off so he would get away with it.”

“Is this so?” she asked, looking at Genira.

“He’s just a boy...” The woman said with a nervous glance away from the Orderite. “He didn’t mean any harm, just look at him.” She pulled her shawl up and began to cover her face a little.

“Indeed not, I expect he was hungry,” she said, reaching down to the side of the vehicle she’d arrived in, opening the rear hatch, “Talion, get some food.”

The boy looked surprised at the Orderite and seemed genuinely baffled by the whole matter as he seemed to be less afraid of what faced him.

“Excuse me...” The woman said as she attempted to head away from the Orderites, worried that they were in fact connected with the Imperial guard or worse, Razsler’s privateers which were used for recovering lost property.

Talion stepped out with a few silver wrapped bars of something, passing them to the kid, while the first looked at him, “Don’t be stealing again,” she said.

“Not much of a choice, Ma’am.” The boy said while ravenously eating the bars of whatever, as it was food to him. “Got left behind, tried to get a job, couldn’t find any, and I used to work in the factory, but I got kicked, so I can’t do anything about it. No one will hire me.”

“And you, you were paid?” she asked the baker, ignoring the boy for a moment.
“Not by him, by that poor woman over there... or well... she was over there. Compassion in these lands will get you killed, or will starve a man. What would happen if I just gave all my food to everyone without so much as been given a pence by a person?”

“Chalk it up to experience and let the kid alone.”

“What, so I’m supposed to let any beggar steal from me? I’m going to starve if I do that.”

“Not if someone pays you won’t,” she said, “I assume she gave you enough to cover it?” the C’tani woman said, waving him away.

"It isn't the one who stole from me who paid for it, it was another woman, and such will be considered a voucher for later, she'll get her money's worth, not paying for the crimes of a street rat."

“You’re a piece of work aren’t you?” she asked, “Clear off!”

“Fine then, you deal with it.” He said to the Orderite before looking at the boy tentatively. “Don’t show up again, or you will regret it. Leave town, and do not return.”

“Excuse me?” she said, “Did you just threaten the kid?” she asked, stepping closer to him.

“People don’t take kindly to thieves, perhaps you’d know that, if you weren’t so foreign. But the threat doesn’t come from me, look around you. This town is not welcoming to thieves, and if he wants to know what’s good for him, he’ll leave.”

“We don’t take kindly to people who threaten small children either, and we run this town now. Get used to it.”

“Watch yourself.” He said as he moved back toward the stand. The young boy sat down, exhausted for a moment from the heat, and looked over at the strange people for a moment.

“You... probably saved my life, you know. I owe you one. If there’s anything I can do at all... please... I... don’t have polish, but I can probably shine your shoes a bit.” The boy said as he tried to look at the other bars.

“Do you have somewhere to stay?” she asked, in point of fact her feet were rather well shined, the armour over them glowing silver in the light, studded corrugation of EM projectors visible across them from close up.

He pointed at the corner where he was lying, for hours. It was a bit of rubbish and seemed to have at least a bit of straw, which was warm at night, if you could get past the awful smell.

“There’s about all I got. It’s more than last week.” The boy said with a smile. “Moving up a bit.”

“Do you want to come somewhere a little safer?” she asked.

“B-But where would I go?” The boy asked as he looked up at the C’tani in confusion.

“A school?” she asked, as though questioning whether that appealed to him.

“I can’t afford that. What would I sell? I don’t even have mother’s old ring, and that only got me three pieces of bread.”

“I was offering to take you somewhere where you’d be cared for and wouldn’t have to worry about making ends meet. We’re trying to stop kids needing to sleep on the street.”

“Hmmm... so I wouldn’t have to pay? And it’s not like a Hostel or something?” The boy asked worriedly. “Got run out of the last one.”

“No, not at all. More like an orphanage, but much better,” she said, “and you can come and go as you please...”

“So not really much like an orphanage, but I can rest in a bed, and get warm meals?” The boy asked.

“Yes,” she said, “that’s the idea.”

“Where? I would walk there, but I don’t know if I can make it.” the boy asked. “I’m all but out of water, so I don’t know where I can go to get to this place, but I hope it’s not too far...”

“You can come with us, we have transports,” she said, waving at the red-painted vehicle behind her, where they’d taken the ration bars from, “You’re only small, won’t take up much space. What’s your name?”

“Terris Morganrowe.” The boy said as he was looking over at the vehicle. He was indeed small and thin as could be with green eyes and long red hair. His face was visibly emaciated and he seemed to be a bit visibly worried at the presence of the red painted vehicle. At first glance he seemed to think it was a guard car, but then he sighed in relief.

“Imela ita Eljaral, pleasure to meet you,” she said, it was not indeed, and its interior was compact with a row of seats down one side, and lockers for equipment on the other, five persons in all, though the seats were large to accomodate larger than human frames as necessary, and with various footlockers; the C’tani apparently liked to travel in comfort.

“What a strange car. Is this used for moving prisoners... soldiers or... slaves?” They boy asked innocently.

“Soldiers, we don’t have any slaves... do you know anyone who does?” Thian asked, his question leading.

“Sure... I nearly got roped up in another guy’s car, sort of like this one, and he was moving slaves southward, trying to take them to the Imperial City of Anion. Didn’t see much tho’ didn’t want to be taken by them. I would probably be a really bad slave.” Terris said nervously. “I mean I’m small and thin, I can’t work very hard with heavy things because I’m too short, and light. Snap like a twig, I will. Not to mention Tor HATE people like me. Even if I DID cut my hair, they would HATE me as a house slave. No one in their right mind would want me as a slave... unless they want to just throw me in a fighting ring to train neophytes... and that would be a short lived servitude. I would die.”

“That’s not going to be a concern here, don’t worry,” Imela said, “as I said, we’re not fond of this slavery thing. In fact our actual job here is to shoot people who enslave others. Not worry about people stealing bread.”

“So you’re actually going to shoot slavers?” The boy asked with a bright smile. “You’re funny.” His eyes shut like upward crescent moons, and he seemed to be delighted with the ration bars. “If you need to know where they are... I can help you of course... but... I’m so hungry I am having trouble remembering...”

“If they resist, certainly,” she said, passing him out another set of ration bars, two more, smiling behind the translucent green tint of her visor. “Take however many you need.”

“R-Really?” He asked worriedly for a moment. “What’s the catch?” he asked as he carefully reached for another ration bar.

“You’ve gotta help us find real slavers, and not name anyone who’s not one.”

“I never intended to say anyone who wasn’t a slaver. If I did that would be horrible. On the other hand, if you don’t shoot them... they might shoot me.” The boy said worriedly. “So you need to shoot them really good, you know.”

“Believe me, once we shoot things, they don’t get back up. Sometimes there’s nothing left at all...” Imela said, “So, where to young man?”

“We could head toward the dye factory. There’s about three people who have been doing trafficking ‘round the corner.” The young man said as he took a bite from the rations. “And there’s probably three guys who have pens nearby tho’ have to go carefully there.”

“Okay, I’ll call it in,” she said, speaking without external sound into her helmet, in truth their objective in the area had been to wait for more forces to set up travel restrictions while a police unit moved in, but ‘shooting slavers’ was the short version of the overall objective. “Let’s mount up,” she said aloud, “Come on kid,” she said, helping him inside and sitting down.

He climbed into the vehicle and clung really hard to whatever seemed vaguely connected to the vehicle, with a nervous look on his face. “How far away are we going?”

“Well you tell us,” she said, pulling up a map on one of the screens that showed the outside, “Where’s the dye factory you were talking about from here?”

“A bit of a walk, you have to go past the water tower.” The boy said with a smile on his face. “You see the big water tower over there?”

“Yes?” she asked, plotting it on the map, as she looked at the screen.

“The factory is nearby there, and up West Newberry Street, and then when we get there, you can follow me, and I’ll show you where the slaver dens are. It’s a bit dangerous to go there though, because it’s possible that they might have beastmen slaves.”

“Oh? Imprinted ones?” she asked, detaching her rifle from the sling she wore and storing it above the seat, changing it for another.

“Most beastmen are dangerous even if they aren’t imprinted.” The boy said worriedly. “Almost got killed by one of them once. Never give a beastman an Axe. Ever.”

“Right, we’ll manage I’m sure,” she said, “We’ll be going in in force...” she said, adjusting the controls as the vehicle began moving the screens showing another behind it and a larger one ahead, a tank of sorts, sleekly ovoid, only its turret differentiating it from half of an egg.

As the boy listened he looked over at the Orderite and tried to get her attention. “What’s your name again? I never got your name?”

“Imela,” she said, repeating herself, “Imela ita - of, I guess, Eljarel.” As the small convoy moved, it grew, another four passenger vehicles and trio of the tank-like vehicles arriving to join them from another area.

“So Ymeilah, you are not from around here are you, where are you from?” The boy asked. “Are you from the Westerlands? Mysidia?”

“I’m a C’tani, from Mandragora, which is very, very far from here...” she said.

“A wha? What’s a Kahtan?” the boy asked.

“Imagine if the Westlands had none of the bad stuff in it and all this stuff?” she said, tapping the screen of the vehicle as the water tower went past, “that’s C’tan.”

“Huh, and really far away? I haven’t heard of you before, but I am surprised. How did you come to be in Mordovia? This place is a hole.” He said as he opened his hands and released his seatbelt as he looked over at the area. He seemed to be familiar with the area, but took a moment before ostentating with his thumb. “Over there... can you see that building? That’s the Dye factory.”

“Hold up,” she said, and spoke again inside her helmet, and the vehicles slowed to a stop, landing on the road with thumps of impact, as several groups of soldiers disembarked in short order and Imela stayed with Terris. “We’ll wait here,” she said, shifting him onto the seat next to her.

“They won’t be coming out will they?” The boy asked as he looked over at Imela with a nervous look in his soft green eyes. “Or... are they just.”

“Only if we arrest them,” she said, watching as Talion stepped up to the door, laying a small object on the lock, there was a flash and a small hiss of some manner of chemical reaction, and the lock was rusted through and the wood petrified around it as he and the other three soldiers with him shoved the door open, three other groups moving to cover them or cut off the other sides of the building respectively as they entered.

As the machinery was rhythmically humming there was a quiet murmur as the group of workers were working to mix the dyes with the machines. The smell of chemicals was lingering from every corner, and there were several guards nearby the workers. The guards were mostly beastmen, sturdy and armed with a pistol as a sidearm, and a shotgun. They did seem to be hardened and did not move so much as an inch from their designated spaces. The Audio and Visual Room was locked down in the Central Office, where there was an adjoining room west, where a group of men were discussing a trade deal.

“So we’re talking thirty workers for about 50,000 gold currents each? That’s still too high of a price. They’re factory workers, not sex workers.”

“They’ve proper experience. Training and also many of them have more than one language to their belt. 50,000 and not a penny less. The King already has outlawed slavery, and we can’t afford to be so open.”

“It’ll die down. It always does.” The Buyer said as he pulled out his checkbook.

The C’tani paused, already aiming for the beastling guards, there was no logical reason for them to be armed so and watching willing factory workers; not that the armament was suspicious, but it wasn’t as if the foul-smelling place was likely to require so many guards.
They crouched into position, steadying their weapons with the straps spacing themselves throughout the room; the beastlings were probably imprinted, they imagined, given that they seemed not to have reacted to the door being kicked in. With an inaudible command, they began to fire at the guards, not waiting for them to react, spraying the areas they stood as rapidly as possible; the ammunition they used was incapacitating, wide-bore slugs that clung to flesh and sent paralysing charges into the victim.The beastlings were utterly shocked and the wolfling in the corner let out a yelp as he fell to the ground. While it was effective it seemed to also frighten them.

“ What was that?” The buyer asked as he looked over the corner. “I think I heard something.”

“Probably just one of the workers. Don’t pay attention, it’s nothing important. So, we have a deal then?”

“Twenty workers.” The man said as he offered the gold currents to the man and looked again down the corner. “I swear I heard something.”

The C’tani ignored the conversation of course, focussing on the more obvious threat of the guards, the less-lethal weapons they used were more efficient than most versions, and they had no real shortage of ammunition; another squad moved into the building, while a third approached and entered a rear door. The rear door was still guarded, but less so than the front, and the guard were quickly overcome, but none of them had ever been struck by such a weapon before or even heard of such a thing ever. The Patrol seemed to be clear, and there were workers below. There was a small narrow ladder which led down, and the workers didn’t seem to notice the C’tani because their weapons had the advantage of being fairly silent.

Talion’s squad moved forward toward the room where the trade had been going on, stepping up to the door and smoothly entering the room, shooting again; there was no sense in taking risks, at everyone they saw in the room.

The side room was narrow and there were two men discussing and as they noticed Talion’s squad entering firing it was too late for them. The pair were almost immediately struck in various places and some multiple times before hitting the ground, and the other man slumped in his chair. Both were paralyzed with a look of horror on their faces. There was no indication that there was anything wrong inside to the other guards who had been told to guard the outside of the door. They did not notice anything immediately but when their master did not say a word they stood and waited for a command other than to prevent anyone and everyone from entering the negotiation room.

The C’tani seized the slave owners and dragged them outside,in short order, taping their hands to the walls, before finally removing, ripping out, the needle-like shock devices. Talion held a knife, “Scream and I cut your thumbs off.” He would too, incoherent screams were better than orders. The slaver owners were completely incapable of speaking and moving and could not manage to get out much of a word out to begin with there was merely muffled moaning from the sounds that they could make, and drool began to pour from the corner of their lips. He sighed, “Weaklings,” he said, and smacked them across the face repeatedly, “Shitheads. Wake up!” With the shock devices removed the nervous system crippling interference ought to be at an end.

“Urgh... what do you want?” The Slaver asked as he looked at the C’tani with confusion. “Who are you?”

“How many beastmen in there are imprinted? Broken in?”

“We don’t keep untamed beastmen. It’s a liability. Who do you think we are?” The man asked. “What, you want the beastmen?”

“Yes, bring them out and I’ll maybe let you live. Tell them to leave their weapons.”

“Fine...if that’s what you want, I can do this then.” The Salesman said as he looked over at the customer with a frown. Neither seemed pleased by this situation at all. “Rɑnmarney, sokrɑn kritt.” the man shouted.

Come to me you wicked animal.

The beastling at the door seemed to be confused as he looked through the door.

“Yihɑrt?” The beastling asked confusedly.
Right now?

“Livɛ vejpon tran’ndu.” The slaver said with a frown.
Leave your weapon at the door.

“And the rest!” the C’tani threatened.

“Vonil vɑn l’alɛnle,t͡sar ʃad͡ʒalananol. Dai za t͡ʃi dɑmʃɪnsu!” The man said to the Beastling who put his hand over his chest and bowed.
Call all your brothers, and tell them to do the same thing, inferior. Fail, and you will be executed.

“Dɑn ynude̞, lɔis ɑliɑɑ. Shɑwn L’dɑnʃi, ɛmrirɛnu mɛtovkjɛʃ.” The Beastling said with a serious expression. The slaver nodded and looked over at the C’tani.
I obey, Lord Master. I am your humble servant, loyal in life and will serve in death.

“They will come...” The man said with a frown. “...but your word, how much is it worth? How much are those people who seek to do harm to my business offering you? I am willing to meet and add to this price if you let me and my customer leave with our property intact. I can make you a very rich man.”

“Let’s talk about that,” he said, “after I see your guards...” he said.

The Beastlings began to enter the room, following the pathway outside some of them with a look of deep confusion and others left their weapons on the ground by the door as they filed in and bowed before their master and his captors. They did not rise unless indicated to rise. There seemed to be an enormous number of them, and the side room was becoming comically crowded as they all followed the same way outside and still there were about fifty men all attempting to get out first to their master’s side.

“Now, I want you to tell them that I’m their new master, do you understand me little man?” he asked, shoving the knife under the Altean’s chin. As he did so, the sky flashed and the ground shook as a nearby operation was hit by an orbital strike, and another a moment later, where remaining Mordovian forces had holed up. The sound followed a moment later, a rolling thunderclap like the beating of the gods’ own drum. The man looked hesitant as he spoke clearly to the beastmen and he made a mental note that the beastmen seemed to be anxious and agitated with the blade at his neck.

“t͡ʃile simɑliɑɑ sɑj merjin. ynude̞’re.” The man said with a frown. “Is that all you want me to say to them?
This man is the inferior animal’s new master. Obey him.

“Do any of you speak common?” he asked, looking at the crowd of kneeling beastlings.

“I speak it, My Lord Master.” One of the young men said as he stepped forward. He was a Dogling and seemed to be rigid in his manner, and well composed. He had black ears and black hair, and was wearing a protective vest against bullets. His eyes were amber colored, and betrayed a sense of deep confusion.

“Do you like this fellow?” he asked, “tell me honestly how you feel about him...”

“In which way, shall I speak of my dissatisfaction or satisfaction? It is entirely up to my Master if he wishes to know either, as I would say there are both I feel in many areas.” The dogling said with a nod of his head. There was a murmur of quiet consensus.

“Should I kill him?” he asked.

“Haven’t you made a vow of honor that you would release me and I’d not be slain?” The slaveowner protested angrily. “I complied, you are backing off on your word?”

The C’tani punched the slaver in the gut, easy enough when your target is tied to a wall, hard, “I didn’t ask you. Your answer?” he asked the beastling.

“Slaying him would be cruel, because he has provided me with satisfaction, but slaying him would also be satisfying because he also has provided dissatisfaction. But as my Master desires it should be. My word is empty.” The dog beastling responded.

“Good enough. All of you head down to the market, and wait for me there...” he said. “Or anyone else in my uniform.”

“It is by your word, My Master.” The Dogling said as he began to shout commands in D'rɑgolɛth forward, to ensure that the rest would follow his master’s commands. They began to march toward the marketplace. The young Terris watched in bewilderment from safety, seeing the droves of beastmen follow in two lines to march to the local marketplace regardless of the distance.

“Now, that’s them done with, what about you?” he said, looking at the buyer, “he bought his life there. What have you got to earn your life with?”

“I... don’t know what you mean by that. I merely... came here to buy supplies.” He lied as he looked over at the other slaver. “And also to seek employees.”

“Don’t you think we know who you are already?” He asked, looking at the buyer’s clothing and beginning to cut buttons off with the long dagger.

“Look, this was the first and only time I’ve ever done this before. We’re shorthanded, and I wanted some skilled workers to help work the textile factory a few towns away. If we don’t get this factory with able workers, the entire economy there will tank, and the people will starve to death.” The buyer said with a nervous frown. “I didn’t even get to go through with it, so I haven’t bought anything.”

“And what’s the address of this other factory?” he asked, playing with the knife and running it against the man’s chest, slightly touching his skin, making the man’s forehead break out in sweat as he could feel his heart beating furiously against his ribcage.

“It’s down by the riverside, near the old abandoned car yard.” He said nervously as he felt the cold steel tickling his skin, its sharpness already apparent.

“You’d better hope that is the truth,” he said, posting a guard, and walking inside the factory to see what had become of the actual workers themselves.

The actual workers were completely confused as the guards had suddenly disappeared, and the majority of them seemed to be merely working on more dyes. They looked over at the slave foreman and he shouted. “BACK TO WORK!” as they seemed to notice that some of the slaves clustered around the windows for a moment trying to see what was going on.

Talion walked into the room, removing his helmet, which hissed slighty as he opened the seals the secondary panels that linked its respiration and gave an idea of the olfactory experience around him giving way to ducts of the unfiltered air and its reek as he slid the faceplate up and then twisted the helmet a little away from his face, his rifle hanging across his chest as he did so, lifting the entire assembly off his head, revealing short grey hair and a faintly aquiline nose set among features that were much older than one might have imagined. “Hello there!” he said, speaking up with the intention of projecting his voice to the far end of the room, something that he did rather well, as was to be expected, considering his main profession.

“ ‘Lo there can I help you, ser?” The foreman asked. "I don't think you are authorized to come back here, safety regulations mandate that you keep a face mask for your own protection."

“Are you in charge here?” he asked, sounding as confident as could be, his hand reaching up to stroke the short beard he wore.

“I am the foreman, but not in charge, how can I help you, Ser?” The foreman asked as he looked over at his fellows who seemed confused by the whole group of C’tani. He was a bit nervous and took a step back. He was human with dark black hair and light blue eyes.

“You can all take a break, we’ve arrested your captors...” he said, “I expect most of you aren’t here by choice?”

“What do you mean by choice? We’re workers.” The man said with confusion. “No one chooses to work. You either work or you die, don’t you?” The young man asked.

“How do you get paid?” he asked.

“Food, water, medicine... A place to sleep? I think this tends to be something that most people consider pay, right?” The man said as he motioned for everyone to shut down the machines for a moment. There was a strange quiet whirr as the Tor young man removed his mask, gloves, and his goggles.

“Who are you guys?” The Foreman asked as he removed his pack and began to pull out a bit of bread and cheese.

“We’re C’tani. Here to liberate slaves.” He said it in the kind of matter of fact way reserved for descriptions of bricks.

The foreman took the bit of cheese and spread it, ironically still not taking much safety precautions as he ate and looked over at the C’tani. “What are those? I have never heard of a C’tani before?” An older woman asked, her frail wrinkled hands were bluish with the color of dye seeped into her skin.

“No one?” he asked, surprised, he would have imagined rumours would reach even these people, “Abolitionists?”

“Huh... Abolitionists I hear are crazy and want to kill us. Don’t know why tho.” He said as he held out a bit of bread

“Not at all. We want to stop people being stolen from their families and sold as property, and to give everyone dignity and freedom.”

“Well we don’t really choose that. I don’t think anyone does. Do you know the last time I have seen family before? I think my mother works at the board row... maybe three blocks from here, but she and I don’t and haven’t seen each other for a year now. These are things, I think, that we all get used to. How many times a year do you see family?” The foreman asked as he held out the bread again. “Not hungry?”

“Humm? No, I’m not hungry and as often as I want, really, I work quite little, barring this kind of thing,” he said with sympathy.

“Huh... strange.” The boy said as he looked around and passed his bit of bread to the older woman. “Well I haven’t heard much about C’tan or Abolitionists much. Just work here day and night.” He looked confused at the idea. “Why would you want to free slaves though?”

“Because everyone deserves freedom, it is their right,” he said, “it’s not like you did anything to deserve being punished after all...”

“How am I being punished?” The boy asked confused.

“Kid doesn’t understand. He’s never actually been free before.” The old woman said with a tired expression. “I can’t really believe we’ve been freed. It just feels like normal lunch time. Are we really free or is this one of Master’s odd jokes?”

“You’re really free, this is happening. You can go outside if you like, though if you could stay around so that we can get your name and papers in order that would help us match people up with families and such down the road. And we’ll have to sort some residences out as I doubt you want to stay here...”

“Well it stinks to high heaven, but it’s out of the sun, the rain, and the chill. Goodness knows I can’t stand any of it. The wind blows right through me.” The old woman said with a frown, as likely much of her family was already dead, or had forgotten her. “It’s a little jilting to imagine.”

“No doubt, but there’s a whole lot of other places you could go. We have a vast number of places you might want to visit where cold is a word they only apply to the drinks...”

“I have heard in the south there is always warmth. I would think this is the best option.” The woman thought aloud. “But tell me, boy, why do you hate freedom so?” The woman asked the foreman.

“Well, I don’t know. I never gave it much thought. I just... wasn’t. I can’t begrudge my circumstances, as I am not starving out on the streets. I just happen to have a master who ensures I can eat, have somewhere to sleep, and if I get hurt I can get my injuries treated. Well mostly. There’s some that can’t be fixed.”

“You’ll have somewhere to eat, somewhere to sleep and medical care in freedom too. We are not any more inclined to let people starve than we are to let them be slaves,” he said, “anyway, I’ll be outside, someone will be here shortly, I’ve got to go deal with the beastmen. They think I’m their master now...”

The foreman laughed and snarked as he tried to imagine what it would be like to have fifty beastmen at his command. “Well, I hope you don’t use them for naughty things. They’re beastman by gods, have dignity.” he teased.

“Good luck to you all, I might see you later, but if not, please try to enjoy yourselves.”

He waved, heading back past their former owner, and the buyer, who were still strapped to the wall, members of another squad guarding them now; a more thorough interrogation awaited, followed by a trial, but that could be done by dedicated professionals. He had some beastlings to deal with, and mounted the transport with Terris.

Terris looked over at the C’tani and seemed to be completely at a loss for how to deal with the whole scenario. He smiled nervously and wiped off sweat from his forehead.

“I hope it went well, are we... going to be okay then?” He asked as he didn’t want to be put into a dangerous situation in over his head.

“Yes,” she said, “We’ve got some beastlings to see...” she said, hugging him as they headed back for the market in their vehicles.

Terris seemed to delight in the hug, but was afraid to comment upon it, and merely let his eyes follow to the window, watching the houses pass by. Some of them were beautiful and created with fine materials with latticed wooden gates. Some with vast properties and others with brick and smooth wood. He bit his lower lip, not wanting to express his envy at the people who had homes while he slept on the street in a pile of hay, but he was still feeling the bite in his conscience as he looked at the oncoming market. The food salesmen were shouting as they were hawking their wares. The Imprinted Beastlings just stared. They did not move even if they seemed to be visibly tempted by the things being sold around them. They waited for their new master to arrive and for him to command them.

The C’tani transports pulled up in the same place, and Talion stepped out of the one they were in, accompanied by others. “Hello!” he said.

“Greetings, Good Master.” The Foreman said as the others followed suit, whooping to show their pleasure in their master’s words.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“We are ready to do as our master commands.” A dogling seemed confused at this question for a moment, and nodded as if to confirm to himself what the right answer was. “In which way may I serve you?”

“By telling me how you are feeling,” the human man said. “What emotions are you experiencing?”

“Emotions?” The dogling seemed even more confused, and the others look/ed back and forth, “Oh, those. I am feeling... delight?”

“That’s the answer you think I want to hear, what’s the real answer?”

“Well master, there’s sort of... confusion.” He answered with a nervous laugh. “I am not entirely sure if my master is playing some sort of prank...”

Talion grinned, “Are you people hungry?” he asked.

“Well... we have only had perhaps a loaf of bread and cheese shared among our number, ser.”

“II’ll get you some food...” he said, walking over to the vendor who’d brought Terris to them for punishment.

“Not you guys agai- What is with the animal freakish parade? Is this some elaborate form of prank?” The baker asked apprehensively.

“How much for everything you’ve got here?” he asked.

“Why?” He asked suspiciously as he pulled out his coinpurse. “We’ve got sweetbreads that are twelve gold currents, regular bread that is five, and flatbreads that are two. I have the whole haul which is about I want to say five hundred worth?”

“That’s really quite excessive, I think two hundred would be a rather more appropriate price...” he said.

“Four hundred fifty.” The Baker said with a raised eyebrow.

“Well I suppose you probably have to keep up appearances for the other customers so shall we say two hundred forty?”

“Three hundred thirty, do I look like a madman? You insult me!” He said not looking insulted at all. “Come now, what’s your real offer?”

“Oh I do apologise, I think two hundred seventy five is more like it...” he said.

“Done, now let’s see the Two hundred seventy five, proper, and you can have the haul.” The baker said as he looked over his bread, it was surely more than enough for its value.

Talion took out a small booklet and wrote something on it, “There you go...” he said; passing over something labelled ‘Requisition Slip’ and filled in with ‘two hundred seventy five GC.’

“What’s this now?” He said as he examined the slip... it was not clear but he could not clearly read. “Is this a...”

“Requisition form; take it to a bank and they’ll cash it for you.”

“Alright then... Pleasure doing business with you.” He said as he tried again to read the form, and wasn’t entirely sure if the letters were specifically legible, or if they were some sort of symbols that only the banks would know. As he did so, the bread was being taken, and Terris seemed to be watching from a distance. The beastlings took great care to compose themselves as they waited for the bread to be placed in their hands before devouring it.

“You can pick it up yourselves...” Talion said, not handing it out individually, he expected it was some sort of ritual obeisance and wanted no part of it, though he did snag the sweetest looking bread for Terris.

The problem immediately with this was that the beastlings immediately charged at the baker’s stand and quickly began to tear for the pieces of bread, none of them were sure that they would get a piece at all. It was in fact, mayhem as Terris watched a bit dumbfoundedly as he received his piece of sweet bread, which was soft, sugary, and wonderfully rich like a fluffy cake.

“I... aren’t you going to...” Terris began.

“HEY! What in the name of Serion are you doing! Stop that!”

“Behave yourselves!” Talion shouted, “Pick up one piece of bread at a time! There’s plenty more!”

The beastlings calmed as they carefully started to take bread from the bread stand. The Baker uttered a terrified shrill whimper of “Dreaded savages.” before watching the area more carefully. Terris looked over the corner and attempted to get a glance at what the Baker was observing but it didn’t seem like the baker was paying much attention to the beastmen nor their master. The baker didn’t seem very surprised by the slaves and just instead glared down the alleyway near the corner. “H-Hey!” he shouted as he left the stand and left Talion to keep an eye on the beastlings before he heard the baker shout angry obscenities before shouting. “STOP RIGHT THERE! OI!”

Talion sighed, waving for his buddy - even as well equipped as his people were one didn’t travel alone if one could avoid it - to come with him, leaving two others with the beastlings, “What’s going on here!” he asked, walking back to the baker’s stand.

The baker seemed to be in a fight with what looked like a strange young man with horns upon the corner of his temples. The man had a goatee which was much like his hair, chocolate brown. His eyes were a cold black, and he seemed to be having the upper hand in the fight, until he spotted the C’tani and dropped the baker and began to flee. The baker was bruised and battered and he cursed as he climbed to his feet and attempted to give chase.

“Get back here, demon! You won’t get away this time!”

The C’tani of course, joined in the chase, and quickly was at pace with the old baker, as the baker stumbled and fell behind. The creature’s sprint was at least fast enough that it seemed like it was beyond a human’s normal sprinting speed. He also zigzagged through the alleyways between the old tenements where the poor and formerly enslaved lived. Some seemed to be just the same as before the C’tani came.

Talion paused as the boy pulled ahead, and shot at him, the three round burst of the weapon with a loud rapport in the alley. Of course, he was still using the less-lethal weapons they’d used on the beastlings before. The rounds hit him and he collapsed upon the ground, and was shocked at his immobility as he struggled against its effects, attempting to roar against his body movements.

“Relax, it’ll hurt less,” Talion called out, approaching slowly, keeping the tiefling, as he assumed the boy was, in his sights.

“Get this thing off me!” He shouted angrily, he seemed to be wildly struggling against its effects, causing him to feel excruciating pain, which he attempted to disregard. “Get it off!” he flailed wildly as if he thought the bullets were some sort of living bug that could be swatted away.

They could be in fact, and they were, the other C’tani approaching to strap the victim’s arms behind his back, probably not a popular move either, Talion thought as he watched his partner crouch to do so.

The baker looked ahead. “Hah! Finally caught the damned thing? Well it’s about time someone did.”

The tiefling looked blankly as he attempted to struggle against his bonds. “Release me so I can kill that fat bastard, and I promise you will not regret it.”

“Explain!” the C’tani said, keeping an eye on the tiefling, even though he suspected the young man had his reasons, given that he wasn’t a human and this was Altea.

“I just did.” The tiefling said without emotions.

“He’s a racketeer, the scoundrel. Works for the mob, he does. Ought to be hanged, but I could never catch him,” The baker said annoyedly.

“Explain why you want to kill him, not just that you want him dead.”

“So, you are not aware then. He’s a man who owns the old mill. Sells the flour and bread. Refuses to sell to non-humans.” The tiefling said irritatedly.

“Which is my right. Had me a group of non-humans nearly just tear down my goddamned stand, and I remembered exactly why I don’t sell to non-humans.”

“You motherfucker. People cannot get bread for miles, and you expect them to go to another town for it? After the rice salesman was killed by the crows you think we don’t know. Fuck you, untie me and let me kill this bastard.”

“It’s not your right...” Talion said, “Bring him,” he said, putting a hand on the miller’s shoulder.

“Excuse me?” The miller asked with a raised eyebrow. “You mean him, right?”

“Yes,” he said, as the Tiefling was pulled to his feet, bound but with the bullets removed at least, “I mean both of you.”

“What?” The baker’s expression went from cockiness to shock and disbelief. “I am a law abiding citizen, and a free man. What have I done?”

“You are not a citizen, you are an Altean, this way my good man.”

“How dare you! I’m very insulted by this nonsense.” The baker said as he was taken by the C’tani and the Tiefling seemed to be also angered and hissed as anyone approached, but he didn’t seem to do much more. He was taken quite peacefully as he gave death glares at the baker.

Talion escorted the baker back to his stand, and shoved him down to sit. “Here’s what’s going to happen...” he said, “You’re going to tell me why you killed the rice seller, and then you’re going to pay me to let you go.”

“I didn’t kill the rice seller, that’s slander from a man who’s going to be hanged for his crimes! Nothing of the sort is true at all. The Rice Salesman was a tosser who pissed off the wrong people. Smuggling in rice from the West he was. Not my hand that killed him at all.”

“LIES!” The tiefling shouted with a growl in his gutteral shout. “LIES AND EVERY DAMNATION POSSIBLE!”

“Not your hand?” the C’tani asked.

“Hey, don’t say it like that, the man ended up bloody in the streets, but I didn’t kill him. I don’t kill people, but it’s a demon’s nature to kill, so why don’t you ask him? I bet the monster killed him and his sister. Not that that was my problem at all. I had nothing to do with that.”

“So you killed his sister too?” Talion asked.

“My sister couldn’t eat anything other than rice and flour cakes for months, she was sick, and then he refused to sell to non-humans, and I had no choice, I would make rice cakes. Then the Rice Vendor was murdered, and there’s no question as to who benefitted to this sudden turn of events.” The tiefling growled as he again realised he was restrained.

“I see. What’s wrong with you you fucking cunt?” the C’tani asked the baker, looking down at him.

“I am choosing who I sell my products to, as is my right!” He shouted. “And those are choice words, I would restrain your tongue. There are children around.”

“You knew?” the man asked, “you knew and still wouldn’t sell them any bread?”

“There is another town which also sells corn, bread, and rice. It’s only a two day’s journey by foot. He could easily get it if he wished. It’s not my problem.”

The C’tani strapped the Baker’s arms down to the chair, “You know what... I ought to arrest you...” he said.

“I have committed no wrong. I have sold my goods, and I even in my magnanimousness told him where to find goods elsewhere. It’s merely his problem of not going to go get what he needed.”

“Release me, and I promise you will not regret it.” The tiefling said with more malice ebbing into his voice.

The C’tani took out a knife, and cut the Tiefling’s bonds, “Don’t kill him.”

The Tiefling was released and his delight was only matched by the terror of the Baker. “H-Hey! You can’t do that! The demon will...”

“I will what?” The tiefling asked with a terribly malicious grin, as he cracked his knuckles. “I don’t believe I promised anything other than to not kill him, I am an honorable ‘demon’.” The tiefling then began to punch the baker viciously using his hands to strike and pound relentlessly as the baker shouted and screamed in pain. The claws of the tiefling were sharp and leaving open cuts as he continued to strike again and again, feeling his emotions of anger and raw grief sting deeper than any cut he left behind on the baker. This however didn’t mean that he did not shred the Baker’s clothing. It hung like tattered rags and dripped with blood from the still small cuts. They were like paper cuts precisely left behind to not kill, but to agonize and distract.

The tiefling panted for a moment and was finding the strikes harder and harder to do with restraint. He knelt for a moment and shouted as angry tears streamed down his face. “Bind me again.” He said warning.

Talion stepped in, and did so, without question, having decided it would probably be for the best for the abuse to end.

The tiefling roared angrily as he struggled against his bonds for a second before listlessly kneeling once more. “Please... get him out of my sight. I can’t...” He stammered.

“Take him away,” Talion said, and they dragged the baker none to gently across the floor. “It’s not over, for him, that was just the beginning. He will face justice...” he said.

“Hollow.” The Tiefling said with gasping breaths. “Justice is hollow.”

[Mystrian Altea]

Terris watched the beastlings ate the bread, still wondering where Talion had went, and he opened the door to where he was, and stepped out as he looked around the area. He saw his bed of hay, and sat on top of it once more eating his sweetbread, trying to scan for Talion with his sharp eyes. He was relieved that whatever it was, it seemed to calm down. He thought that perhaps it was a cut throat, and now that he had betrayed slavers that they’d shut his mouth. If it was one thing that he knew about from his travels, it was that he was aware of all the slavers in the area. He had to know where they were otherwise he would be kidnapped. He looked up at the woman beside him and leaned closer, wanting to receive another hug, but was hesitant, unsure. As if he was a small puppy approaching to smell a reaching hand, and attempting to see if it was alright to do so. He looked up at her with his almond shaped green eyes and leaned in for a hug. Imela hugged him again, watching the view outside.

“Hollow?” Talion asked, “I imagine it feels so. But it is better than him going free, I imagine.”

“Well if you let him free, someone could kill him. Now that he’s not, he will live cushily. He will never hunger. He will not suffer. He’ll be given a place to sleep, a place to eat. A place with less fear that the hand of death will grasp him by the throat. It’s hollow. I am sure of it.”

“Not so much, he will be worked to death or just plain shot most likely... if what you’ve said is true.”

“I am many things. I have blood of a demon, but I am most certainly not a liar. What use have I for lying?” The tiefling asked as he felt his anger making him sweat. “I don’t think being worked to death and being shot is enough. Both present the lack of the illusion of security. This makes it even more painful for the bastard.”

“Well we will need a new miller...” he said.

“A miller? I don’t know anyone who can do those things.” The Tiefling said with a tired sigh. “And now that he’s gone, the rice salesman is gone... we don’t have any rice or flour.”

“I’m sure someone can be found,” he said, “We will see to it that it is done.”

“I remember there was a Miller... maybe named Faulkner. Don’t know if he’s still around.” The Tiefling said as he looked at the C’tani. “Moreover, my punishment... you’re still..”

“What punishment?” he asked.

“You aren’t going to lock me away for assault?” The tiefling looked surprised. “I mean, I won’t argue with that, but I’m just... surprised.”

“I certainly could arrest you,” he said, “but I don’t see why I would. It’s not like you could be convicted when any sensible lawyer would say you were merely trying to bring a lawbreaker to justice, which is what you were doing, right?”

“I was? I mean... well.. sure.” He nodded enthusiastically. “Oh that he might have evaded justice again. If you hadn’t come along he would have likely gotten away with it. Woe!” He said quite obviously acting. “Am I doing it right?”

“Yeah, that’ll do the trick, have you got a contact address in case we need witnesses?”

“Witnesses? You mean to those who witnessed the assault, or to the crimes of the jackhole who killed my sister?” The Tiefling asked.

“The baker’s, as I said, no one’s going to charge you, and you’re not expected to be a witness against yourself anyways.”

“I already am a witness against my self. I am a demon. Well at least to anyone who sees me. They all know that, after all. I’m a liar, a killer, and a thief simply by the crime of having been born. Of course, it’s exactly why this is the case, I tend to count my blessings in that I have eyes and ears everywhere. How much do you need to know?”

“Oh, well,” he said, and removed his helmet, the process taking a few moments, “Maybe you can help us out then. We’re here to round up slavers.”

“I said I can help you with witnesses, but I am wondering how many you need, and you’re rounding up slavers? Heh, didn’t think this would happen, most people don’t think you guys are quite as serious about it. I guess I underestimated you guys. C’tani, right?”

“Yes, and yeah, we’re serious,” he said, stroking his greying hair.

“Well then, you’re better off asking the Mafia overlords, they know what is going on in their turf, and they are usually executors of justice in ‘their’ lands, just about none of us survive without crime at this point, but I imagine it’s not going to last, is it? Best to quit while you’re ahead.” The tiefling lad said with a wry grin. “Right?”

“Perhaps,” the human soldier said, “Mundane non-fatal crimes are not really our concern, yet, though they will be, we’re mostly interested in slavery, rape, murder, that kind of thing.”

“So you’d be best to talk to the Consigliere of the local mafia. I think that’s the word they call it.” The demon raised his eyebrow. Clearly there was a different word for the thing, but he said the word that came to mind.

“I’m sure we will,” he said, “above my pay grade though,” in point of fact he didn’t have a pay grade per se, but the idiom was relevant, “But if you’ve got any other tips we’ll investigate.”

“Plenty, I have it on good authority that there’s a cell of Crows in the west side of the shore. If you go there, it will look like a gambling joint, but don’t be fooled. They’re merciless killers, and will most certainly not hesitate to put a bullet in any slaver you send them after. If of course, you give a proper price for the guildmaster.”

“We have our own assassins, but... huh, that might be worth doing,” he said.

“Yeah, let me know if you need anything. I’ll probably be by the whorehouse along the harborside. And of course, if you’re into that I can give you a discount.” The tiefling said with a shrug.

“With you, or?” the man said, slightly horrified by the boy’s apparent age.

“No one seems to mind that, I mean obviously. Most guys come here for older guys but... I’m not really picky. If you want me, I’m yours for a price.” He said with a glint in his eyes.

“I’ll pass, thanks, not that you’re not cute,” he said, “but it’s not my thing.”

“A Tits man then, I can respect that.” He laughed with an innocent spark for a moment as he got up. “You change your mind, you know where to find me. I’ve got no where to be, no where else to go. So I’ll see you around then.” He said as he turned around and started to head down the street.

Terris saw the tiefling passing by and slightly cringed instinctively for a reason that was unclear to the others.

“What’s up?” Imela asked as he pulled closer against her.

“It looks like a demon. We... well... I saw those kinds of things before. When my caravan was sacked and I was left behind. Demons attacked the caravan, it was somewhere passing by the northern area by New Lynnberg. It’s just... been a while since I’ve seen things like them before. I, don’t think... well he doesn’t look familiar though.”

“He’s not a real demon, just a mortal like you or I, just with horns.”

“But he looks like one. It’s... surprising.” He said avoiding admission of his terror. “Imela... have you any family? You know, back home?”

“Me? Parents, but no children, if that’s what you mean,” she said, holding him on her lap lightly.

“I used to have a family too, was really big, but I think they’ve forgot about me, or maybe dead, but I don’t know, so I sometimes wonder if maybe they’re somewhere. But then I’m fooling myself. They never hated me, they always cared for me before, but... then why was I just... for such a long time alone? I grappled with that. Do you think... they’re all dead?”

“I wouldn’t know, but maybe we can help you find out,” she said.

“How could we find out?” He asked equally hopeful and also eating at his conscience was the hope that they were dead, rather than they had left him for dead. It made his self-consciousness even worse and ate at him.

“It might take a long time, but we do intend to get a proper census of this miserable country...” she said.

“What’s the senses you’re talking about?” Terris asked blankly. He was not aware of the word census, nor did he understand what she meant, but it was clear that he thought he had perhaps misheard.

“Census is where you find out who exactly lives in the country, and where, so that you can know what is going on. And when that’s done we could find your relatives, if there are any.”

“So you just count everyone?” Terris said surprised anyone would do such a thing. It sounded like a lot of hard work. “But there’s so many!”

He looked over at the shadow of the mill in the distance. “Well maybe in small places like here it would be easy, but not in places like the Imperial City.”

“You mostly get them to count themselves. Of course, they will lie, but if they’re also looking for missing relatives it’s unlikely they’ll lie.”

“Maybe, maybe so. I hope... they’re okay.” He said with a hint of resentment and yet hope. The boy seemed to be confused by the beastling slaves as he watched them calming down.

“Well, do you want to come see if we can find you somewhere to stay?” she asked.

“I don’t know if you’ll find anywhere that wants to take me. I’ve been turned away from some shelters, because they say they don’t want delinquents. I don’t know, I don’t want any trouble.”

“Well, it’d be in our base, for now, unless you’ve any objections to that, until we find somewhere better...”

‘Does that mean I can stay around you for a while? I mean I don’t know anyone else who’s been kind to me...” He blushed “I mean I don’t want to cause trouble to you but...”

“Of course you can,” she said, “though I won’t be able to spend too much time with you.”

“Uhm, of course, you are working and have things to do, it’s as I said, I don’t want to get in your way but... Thank you.” He said happily as he shyly attempted to hug her himself, feeling a bit awkward and worried he would be brushed aside.

She didn’t, though, holding him as Talion and the others returned, the former ordering the beastlings to follow them, as they set off at a walking pace back toward the outskirts of the town.

“Are we going there now?” Terris asked as he seemed to be calmer. “Is there going to be a bed I can sleep in, or... maybe straw? It’s warm in the night time chill.” He said correcting himself. It was better to not jump ahead in expectations. After all he didn’t want to insult Imela at all, he liked her muchly, and didn’t want to offend her.

“We’ve got beds, of course,” she said, grinning a little, “And all the food you can eat, too, and pretty much everything else you’d want I’d expect.”

“I don’t want to ruin your things, I’m covered in all sorts of things... I think that’s a corkbeetle stain.” He said gesturing at his tattered clothing.

“We have showers too,” she said dismissively.

“Okay then, as long as... it’s really okay.” He said curiously glancing back and forth as they traveled, and he wondered how long this streak of good luck would last, it was perhaps too good. He worried something would come down hard on his head, but just was not sure from what. He became hyperaware of subtle things around him and was humming nervously to old songs he remembered being able to sing once before, but most of the words escaped him.

The C’tani meeting point was along the edge of town, and the locals seemed to be curious and disgusted by the odd ‘animal parade’ which seemed to constitute a grotesqueness that they would gape at and some ran away in fair as others seemed to be baffled as they watched more. The little children looked up and pointed and a few chased the beastlings and marched alongside them before their concerned parents dragged them away, to a safe distance. The group of beastlings became tired as they still marched ahead, disregarding fatigue to the edge of town. One of them, one who looked a bit sickly collapsed, and the others quickly responded, almost like a group of ants, to pick up the injured or sickly person and they helped them continue on.

The vehicles came to a stop shortly after, “Hold here,” Talion’s voice said, as the back of the vehicle he was in opened, and he and Imela, depositing Terris on her chair as she stepped out, disembarked, “You people,” he said to the waving toward the people gathered to gawp, “Disperse at once!”

The confused people murmured as they watched the strange orderite in bafflement. One voice echoes first.

“Why?” It came from a man’s mouth, and he seemed elderly, and also tired.

“Because I told you to!” he said, sounding none too impressed.

The old man didn’t need to be told twice, and began to walk away, as a few others remained and began to jeer at the beastmen and one attempted to trip the beastling that was shouldering another who was too tired to walk further. He stumbled and there was a bit of laughter as he let out a surprised whoop before steadying himself. He disregarded the attempt and continued on his path. The people did not yet disburse.

“Perhaps I wasn’t clear. We’re going to arrest the last two of you to leave now, idiots,” he said, bringing his weapon up to his shoulder and visibly disengaging the safety. The older men looked at one another and spotted the younger and weaker in their number, and naturally kicked them over in their self interest before bolting away from the crazy bastard. As they started attacking the children and older women, Talion opened fire into the crowd, shock-bullets sizzling through the air with relatively wild aim. There was screaming and then a few shuddered as they collapsed to the ground, and were immobile. The others began to move away, and attempted to disburse, but there were about four people who were left behind on the ground, partially trampled, and immobilized moaning in pain. The older woman was clutching her hip and a small girl was crying loudly as her older brother tried to pull her away from the crowd. Their curiosity paid them back in pain.

“Okay, everyone out, actually...” he looked at the more healthy beastlings, “You guys, grab the ones I shot...” he said as the other C’tani disembarked, leaving one to guard Terris of course.

The beastlings that were not weakened attempted to grasp those who had been shot, and left those who were injured by the older men. They continued to shoulder the persons they were ordered to carry. The area was more cleared out and the way to the meeting point was now clear.

The C’tani strapped the wrists of the perpetrators together, and stayed still, Imela pointing several of them to positions around the group to keep the area secure against the inevitable protest that would come next, if left long enough, while they called for the ambulances to meet them here.

The perps were not moving and the beastmen merely continued to wait at the place where they were directed to wait. The meeting point was clear, and there were scarce few Alteans who strayed near it. The ones that did quickly attempted to avoid the people and the beastmen there. They were not willing to tempt fate.

Ambulances arrived, Altean ones on this occasion, if under orders, and rather stern new instructions, with shiny new cameras fitted, to take away the wounded, while large flat-bed trucks with seats soon followed, these of a C’tani design, hovering, for the beastlings.

The beastlings looked blankly at the ambulances. “Is there something wrong master?” One of the beastlings asked Talion with still a confused manner of speaking.

“No, those are for these people,” he said, waving as Imela waved the medics toward the injured onlookers, “You all get up in these and sit down,” he said.

Terris watched and eagerly attempted to help by uselessly pointing the way that Imela did. He seemed like he was imitating her for a moment and then nervously laughed and scratched his head and looked at the ground and kicked up a small stick with his bare feet.

“Where are they going?” Terris asked when it quieted down.

“The beastlings? Same place as we are...” she said, picking him up, “Come on, let’s get back...”

The boy watched as they finally reached the meeting point, and he was fidgeting worriedly in his seat. He leaned over on Imela and muttered low.

“Where are we? Are we away from the city?” He asked.

“We’re going to the foothills of the Lydial Mountains,” he said.

“Isn’t it supposed to be overwatched by the Goddess? I remember there is a legend, that if you leave two gold coins by the pass that she will guard you, and grant you safe passage.” Terris said, remembering the lore. “My family used to do it, even if it was superstition. We forgot to one time, perhaps it was our biggest mistake. Do you believe in legends, Imela?”

“Certainly do. Of course, even if we didn’t, it’d still be sensible to pay some attention because people wouldn’t feel safe if we didn’t. There’s some sort of shrine being built as a gift, rather than coins, though, that should count I expect.”

“I imagine so too. But you know, I wonder what are some legends that your people have? Do you believe in the Goddess and the God like we do?”

“The Goddess and the God? There’s lots of gods, you could say.”

“Well I was taught there was only two, strange! I believed that there was One God, and One Goddess who embody different concepts in different incarnations. There are millions of those incarnations, and people call them by different names, but they also do different things. The Goddess incarnation of the Lydial mountains is the Goddess incarnation’s love of nature and for peaceful travelers.”

The C’tani vehicles passed up the road toward a collection of buildings in the distance, they had not been there long but they had certainly begun leaving their mark, huge flat topped round buildings concealed vast turret devices under construction attended by swarms of things that looked a first like insects but grew in size as they grew nearer, becoming man-sized and then bigger, while other buildings and strange crescent like things dotted the hillside, huge black obelisks, like those that had appeared proclaiming the laws, dotted the landscape, in the distance, and the treeline had been cleared back a little way to expose long lines of walls snaking across the landscape. “Ah there it is,” she said, pointing to an area where a wooden henge was being constructed with some of that same wood, surrounded by a low stone wall; this labour done by men and women rather than machines. The young Nayali attempted to figure out which way he was supposed to go, and thus waited to be directed. The area was nigh deserted by Alteans including huntsmen and shepherds which took careful measures to avoid the area.

“I-Imela... I wanted to say something but...” The boy started before he quieted himself.

“Go on, it’s okay...” she said as they coasted up the widened road.

“There’s something I am not sure you know. The Lord of the area and the duke of the area are gone. Captured, but... What do you know of the Baron?” He asked worriedly.

“Nothing, not interested in the petty local rulers, why?” she asked.

“Ah, I see...” He squirmed uncomfortably in his seat for a moment and fidgeted with his fingers, and attempted to voice his worry in various ways non-verbally.

“Go on though, I’m interested in what you want to tell me?” she said.

“I am not sure it is a good idea to keep him around. I mean, not that I would condone treason of any kind, but...” The boy looked very worried. “The thing is... among slavers... I mean, I know he’s a friend of the Prince and all, I mean, his Majesty, I mean his Highness... it’s just...”

He looked around and tried to see if anyone was watching. “Is this place... safe?”

“We’re quite safe here, yes,” she said.

“His Highness has a friend, his name is Cargen Mordov, and he is a...very fond man of different women. He’s perhaps notorious for kidnapping women from other lands and keeping them in his large scale prostitution ring. He’s also got a Swordwife. A concubine meant to rear him a sword.”

“Has he now?” she asked, frowning, “We shall have to pay him a visit.”

“D-Don’t tell ANYONE I told you. They will kill me. There is no mercy in the hearts of those who act on His Highness’s behalf. Not even if they’re kids like me. Especially not. I don’t... want to have anyone know I have said a single word of it. Please... you promise you won’t tell?” He whispered.

“Of course I won’t tell anyone,” she said, hugging him a little “Why would I?” she asked.

“You’re an orderite. They have to tell the truth in courts, and before his Maj-Highness. It means that if you are asked to tell him things, like the witness who is getting his friend into trouble, you are bound by duty to do so... but...” The boy let a small shiver. “They will kill me if they know, just to rid the trouble of having to put the baron through a trial that will be dismissed and pardoned by his Highness.”

“I’m not that kind of orderite. I’m a C’tani. I can protect my informants if I wish to. Which I do.”

“Oh, so you have no sworn oath to the Prince?” The boy asked. He seemed to be quite a bit more relieved. He sighed and immediately untensed as he let his shoulders hang, and his hair, which was still tied back, drape over his shoulder.

“Hah. No, not at all. He’s merely a hostage as far as I know or care.”

“Ah, I am... really glad to hear that. The last thing I wanted to be part of was a nasty spat between nobles. It’s a recipe for waking up in the morning to a warhammer blow, or an axe murder. I... my mind is a bit morbid in such things, because I’ve heard them before. I’m worried...”

“Don’t be,” she said, “Nothing will happen to you, you can be sure of that.”

“But it’s happened before. It was another guy, an Aurothi who reported on one of the massive bribery campaigns in a war criminal’s trial. They tried to brush it under the rug, and since he was the only living witness they just killed him. They blamed it on Nayali caravaneers, and then burned some of the caravans of the D’itu family.”

“That was before, though,” she said as they passed the outer lines of the walls dotted as they were with defensive weapons and necrons on guard.

“Whoa! What are those?” The boy asked as his eyes widened in wonder. “Amazing. Is it magic?”

“Necrons, and no, most of it isn’t magic. It’s just cool.”

“It IS pretty cool, and I’d have guessed magic. There’s no way that can be just... normal. Is it? I mean... how does that even work?” The boy seemed astonished, and was pleased by the presence of all the neat looking magic looking weapons, but he was not sure of what their use was. He tried to imagine what kind of place it was like inside. He was very glad that he was not going back to his hay pile, because now he didn’t feel safe anywhere else. There were no words to articulate how relieved he felt knowing that they weren’t Serionites, as he took an enormous risk giving the knowledge he had on the Baron.

They pulled through a low rise of ferrocrete barriers intended to deflect car-bombs and similar explosives upward, and into a broad area that had apparently been cut into the side of the mountain, very quickly too, on one side of the flat area, a huge machine could be seen melting entire areas of the stonework, or something similar, and creating thick bricks from them, it looked faintly like some monster eating the mountain piece by piece. Imela paid it no mind as they parked and she stood up, Terris in her arms. He was light, and practically gave hardly any weight to his step, thus was easier to carry than a sack of potatoes. He was surprised to be carried as he had not been for quite a long time. He didn’t remember the last time he was. He looked around in the room and saw the strange machinery, and was tempted to touch everything, but was able to discipline his mind enough to ask first.

“What’s that? Is it a television?” He asked, slightly fearful. He looked closer to see if it was moving. “It’s... a monster?”

“It’s a machine, an engineering one. It’s expanding the vehicle park, it’s cousins are building bunkers all around, see,” she said, pointing to a tunnel from which a wispy trail of black smoke rose, “We build them.”

“It’s alive isn’t it?” Terris asked with his mouth gaping as he saw the smoke trail, clearly an industrial center of manufacturing. “How can you make such a lifelike machine?”

“You have to know an awful lot about how living things work and how machines work, and then you can make living machines by building machines on the same principles that creatures grow.”

“It’s amazing. Could you make one that looks like me?” He asked with innocent abandon, not aware that it was something that is unlikely to be done. After all it wasn’t merely life-like robots like the boy thought they were, but rather living robots.

“We could, but won’t,” she said, “making robots that look like specific people is a little creepy, no?”

“I always wanted a brother, but I was in a family with only girls. The only boy. I don’t know, I think having a twin brother would be the coolest thing ever.” The boy said laughing. “But maybe not, I don’t know, I’ve seen twins before. They’re usually really samey.”

Imelda laughed, carrying him up a flight of stairs shielded from the parking area, not seeing a need to reply. “Let’s get you washed eh?” she asked.

*

As the sun was still setting there was still a clearing as the local Mill was left fairly unattended and the locals were still clearing out the grainary. The Baron’s home was nearby with a cool shadow of several oak trees dotted about the property.

Havelock watched the building as they approached in a large column. The C’tani rarely liked to do anything in small numbers, and it showed, broad oval-like tanks accompanied by the boxier but lower, more advanced form of necron attack vehicles, and the skeletal frames of necron transports as they coasted across the countryside, most of the necron vehicles breaking off to carry on further down the road; others had stopped earlier to position themselves to the north, while yet others were moving toward the far side of the estate.

There was a woman outside sitting on a latticed wicker rocking chair. She had long black hair in curly spiral locks, styled in the local fashion as she seemed to spot them from afar, but didn’t regard them with special notice. She just watched as her long taffeta gown was bustled and rippling as it touched the soft wooden patio. She folded her hands in her lap and waited for the strange activity to die down. It was unclear whether they were heading over to the city or if they needed to speak with her.

The first of the C’tani vehicles pulled up, and Havelock and his retinue jumped down from it, one a tall creature in some kind of armour that showed nothing of the form beneath, while the others were dressed as their comrades elsewhere were. “I am looking for Baron Cargen Mordov,” he said.

“His Lordship is busy, but I am the Lady of the Household. How can I help you, Ser?” She asked with a soft and gentle voice that could melt sweet honey.

“I am Vycount,” actually an old and inaccurate translation but it impressed the credulous, “Havelock of Dyvanakh, here to ask certain questions regarding your absence from court recently,” he said.

“His Lordship has been detained. His sickness has made him absent, and I am unable to walk, good Ser. It’s lovely to meet you though! I’m surprised anyone has come to see My Dear Lord Husband. He has become quite lonely, recently.” The woman said warmly. She leaned back on her chair and tapped on her window with a stick for a moment. “Just a moment, ser. I will gladly invite you for tea, if you don’t mind. It’s rather lonely here at the moment.”

A young man came out as she tapped the window and began to pull out the woman’s wheelchair and helped her upon it, the long waves of taffeta gleaming as she recomposed herself. “Right this way, Good Viscount.”

“Thank you,” he said, “it has been a rather interesting trip, I must say,” he said, looking out at the workers nearby.

The young servant was young, with silvery white hair, and seemed to be about eight years old and began to push the wheelchair for the Dame as she gestured to the comfortable leather couches. “Please take a seat, just a moment.” she said as she began to whisper to the little boy, and the boy nodded as he went to the kitchen, and a few other servants began to clatter about in the kitchen. The Servants began to come out with a pot of tea and a tray with the fixings and a soft set of tea biscuits.

“So, what brings you to Mordovia, My Lord?” She asked blankly.

He took off his helmet, slowly, revealing a dark brown face with short, buzz cut hair, not the image of nobility one might expect, he held his hand out to one of the cups dipping a finger for a moment to touch the surface of the drink, watching something on the back of his hand, before taking a sip.

“Well, naturally we are interested in meeting all of the nobility of Altea, not just those who have been able to come to us...”

“Ah, well it’s pleasant to see that people care for our beautiful side of the lake. I wondered maybe if your people would come here for a vacation and the area would be filled with tourists. Sadly, not so. They seem to be clustered around the western side of the city, and a bit far, but not near the shore.” The woman said with a smile. “I am sure they’ll come soon enough. It’s quite lovely isn’t it?”

“It certainly is,” he said, “though I suspect one will find few tourists from our country in Altea, the countryside is beautiful,” he said, “but Altea has an unsavoury reputation I am afraid.”

“A pity, that. I can’t imagine how we could have such a terrible reputation, but it’s probably due to His Majesty’s Government.” the woman said still ignorant that the King had been dishonored to the Princely status.

“Your Western neighbors have a good reputation with many peoples, and they are not kind to you in their speech,” he said, sipping the tea.

“Unsurprising, but they are also from barbarian goatherds who constantly fight about their leaders.” The woman said with a shrug. “I don’t imagine they are consistent toward anyone. One minute they are begging for aid against monsters, hugging their king, and then the next they are spurning us, calling us thieves, and near killing their monarch.”

“Well, much of the rest of the world is likewise. Even our own people in some ways.”

“I would hope that your people are less inconsistent in their management skills of the Kingdom, yes?” She said warmly. “There is a lot to be done I imagine. So many traitors to the crown and the wishes of the Crown.”

“Indeed,” he said, “I am told that your family are ardent supporters of the Prince,” he didn’t make note of it, “and therefore we were surprised by your husband’s absence.”

“Yes, there’s been word that His Majesty was welcoming us to his lovely soiree with the foreigners, but I was unable to go myself. I intended to, and I even had a beautiful red and golden gown to show off to Lady Peatrice, but sadly my Husband advised against it. He was sick, he could have made his Majesty sick, and everyone else.”

“He is sick? That is unfortunate,” he said, raising an eyebrow, “is that where he is, in a sanitorium?” he asked.

“He is on retreat in Bellview, a ‘sanity day’ he said it was needed. He is getting his mind in right order, or so they say. It’s a lovely place. I remember when my son was having trouble with his depression he went there, highly recommended.” The woman said with a tilt of her head. “I don’t recommend you visit there, while it is lovely, most of the people there are receiving therapy for some unpleasant reason.”

“Could you explain his symptoms to my physician friend?” he asked, waving to one of the four with him.

“My husband was having terrible tremors with his hands and had many attacks of fear and terror. For no reason it seemed, after all there’s nothing to worry about here in these peaceful lands. Ah, and he used to have to take medicine for it, if I remember correctly.” The woman said with a gleam in her eye as she reached for the medicine. “It would be best to keep this between us. I don’t need the rumor mill continuing yet again.”

The woman took this, examining it, the systems in her helmet picking up the names and translating them from what she suspected were brand names, to the terminology used back home. The C’tani had no patent names on drugs any more; almost all of the chemicals in use having been known for centuries, and those that were not typically named by their chemical names or abbreviations thereof in the necrontyr language, “I see. Not related,” she said, speaking of the plague in Palomecia, “My Lord.” She unscrewed the cap, using some manner of tool to take a sample of one of the tablets within to confirm its makeup.

“Ah,” Havelock said. “My apologies,” he said, “there have been rumours of a plague, but if this is a treatment it is unlikely he has it. Nonetheless, it is very good of him to be so concerned...” he said.

“My husband is kind, as he is considerate. Of course, I do wonder if there is something I can help you with regards to the situation in our Barony, My Lord.” The woman asked as she set the bottle of pills upon the counter.

“Indeed,” he said, “I am afraid we have been requested to perform a... patriotism sweep, of your estate while we are here.”

“Oh, of course, but of which estate, good ser?” She asked seeming to be more than willing to unlatch the back room and bedrooms along with the servant’s quarters.

“This entire building and the grounds around, certainly,” he said.

“By all means.” She said as she called to the servants. “This means your quarters as well, I am apologizing in advance.”

“Unless you have any particular reason, you can of course, remain here,” he said, “I shan’t be doing it myself.”

“Oh good, then please sit down and chat, it is not often that I have guests in my home. Everyone fears that it is contagious.” The woman said with an embarrassed smile. She seemed to indicate at her inability to walk.

“Humm? Oh, certainly not, if I may, what may I ask was the cause of your special requirement...” he said, waving to the chair; C’tani were oddly enough, not too comfortable around physical disability, as it was something they rarely encountered and frequently didn’t know exactly how to react to. “No offence intended, of course,” he said.

“Oh none taken ser, it is something I was born with, but of course people gossip and say it was Polio, but it most certainly was not! I would know what I am afflicted with, not that Madame Peatrice would have you know otherwise. Such a gossip that woman is. Why, if you were so much told that you might be late for a party, it’s always an affair! Always with that woman.”

The Doctor had an image in her mind of this woman, married when she was young to another inbred noble, whom nature had cursed not with frailty in body but cruelty of mind, and she could see, or so she thought, long years pass in an instant before her eyes of mutual dissatisfaction and hiding the truth of things, but then, perhaps this was merely conjecture, and she put it out of her mind, “You are surely too young to have been affected with Polio,” she said, neglecting the ‘My Lady’ that might be expected.

“Of course I have, but this doesn’t quiet the rumor mill, and furthermore do I look like the sort of woman who would lie about such things?” She asked rhetorically. “Certainly, I would not say such things as ‘I was born with this’ off hand. It affects my reputation, after all if I were to bear a child with such a thing, I would most certainly be ruined.”

“Well I dare say you could given the therapies we have,” she said, as the commander spoke into a communications unit, ordering several of the men to enter the house to search it.

“I don’t know what sort of therapy can undo birth with a problem in the spine, good ser, but if there is, we’ve no shortage of money in my family, and His Lordship is certainly willing to pay for something, I bet.” She said uncertain. It was clearer that she was the one who had to marry down, and likely at a young age, as they began to rustle through the objects in the house and the young boy with silvery hair seemed to follow curiously observing the C’tani, but paying no serious mind to them as they searched. The basement seemed to indicate that there was some other people who frequented the place, and that there was also more servants who were strangely absent.

Imela, in the group in the basement, looked around with interest, a knife missile hovering beside her coasting along the walls to build up a sensor echo of the walls, while she ran another tool along it herself, the building’s interior was compared to the outside and to the overall floorplan.

The floorplan seemed to be similar to the ground floor level, with some minor differences as there seemed to be a bottlery intended to store and dispose of drinks that had gone bad, or useless preserves. There seemed to also be large fermenting bottles which were clearly prepared wine for the season ahead. There were still, however, several odd things which seemed out of place, as there were gardening tools but there seemed to be no groundskeeper, and there were mining tools, but the wife of the Baron could surely not use them, and nor could the baron with every picture he was featured in demonstrating his hands without even the slightest callus. She took note, moving on to look into the next rooms. The rooms seemed to be in use, many of them, however it seemed to be empty aside from the cook, the servant boy, and a maid.

“But of course, if there is any such thing, I’m sure you must know many people who have gotten such a condition healed?” The Dame asked as she folded her napkin in her lap.

“I have done it myself,” the doctor said, “well, prescribed it,” she said.

Imela looked carefully, meanwhile, at the maid.

The maid looked uncomfortable as she headed to her quarters for a moment. “I will be right back, My Lady.”

“Of course, do what you must.” Imela followed.

“Yes, Ma’am.” She said as she curtsied and closed the door and began to rifle through her bags.

The C’tani woman pushed the door open, looking in at her.

“Oh, hello there! How can I help you?” The maid asked a bit surprised by Imela’s abruptness.

“I’ve come for your blood,” she said, saying it in a tone that was deliberately malevolent.

“I.... what? What are you talking about? I have... no quarrel with you. Leave me be!” She nervously said as she backed away, cowering.

“By which I mean a blood sample; assuming you’re not going to tell me you’re the boy’s mother.”

“I.... oh, god... I thought... Well.” She blushed mortified, and cleared her throat. “He is not mine, no. I think he is... ahm.. well... I cannot speak for myself, but I have a suspicion that the boy belongs to His Lordship.”

“Well then, roll your sleeve up.” Imela asked.

The woman rolled her sleeve up and looked away, as she didn’t seem to like the idea of being prodded by needles very much, but of course it was better than what she had imagined when someone said they’d come for her blood, she began to feel thankful once more that she wasn’t the concubine.

“Thank you, anything I can help you with?” Imela said, as she prodded a needle into her arm.

“I am not sure you’re going to find anything here. The baron has two homes.” She whispered. “But I have said nothing.”

“We’ve already found something,” she said, “We’ve found the boy.”

“Ah... so you are aware he is...” The woman caught her tongue but said nothing more as she did not wish to get herself into trouble.

“Are you here by choice?” she asked, opening the drawer the servant girl had been looking in.

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘choice’. I am eating, and I have a home. I see this as ‘choice’ as it is better than being out there without.” She said honestly.

“Humm, I see,” she said inspecting whatever the girl had been looking for.

The girl seemed to be hiding a small hypodermic needle, with some sort of serum within a small bottle. “What might this be?” she asked, holding it up, finding it odd given that the girl had previously flinched from her needle a moment ago, a rather less threatening one.

“Medicine.” She said deceptively. “For the boy.”

“Is that so?” she asked, looking at the bottle carefully, keeping her body half turned toward the girl, examining it for any markings to read down for the doctor.

There seemed to be no needle marks on her arm, and she seemed to reach for the needle and serum.

“He has sugar sickness.” She said clarifying.

“He has what?” she asked, putting the needle and serum down.

“Sugar sickness. The kind of sickness that makes one unable to have sugar? You know of it, yes?” The woman asked.

“Diabetes?” she asked. “This is insulin?”

“That’s what I said, wasn’t it?” She asked as if she was uncomfortable at the question. “It is insulin.”

“I see, we’ll take it downstairs,” she said, “come with me...” she said.

She followed the C’tani down the stairs and headed toward the main room, where the hostess was setting aside pecan shortbread cookies.

She walked up to the doctor, opening the bottle and passing it to her, a tool not unlike the probe used for poisons being used to confirm what precisely it was.

Unsurprisingly it was not insulin, but was some sort of sleeping solution mixed with a type of bloodborne pathogen.

“Porphyry,” she said, and almost at once Imela reached down for the gun she had strapped across her chest, aiming it at the servant girl, while others moved to cover the lady, too, and the doors.

“Y-Yes.” The servant girl said as she raised her hands.

“It’s a code word girl, not an analysis,” the physician said, “who are you poisoning?” she asked, looking at the woman in the wheelchair.

“Me? I would certainly not poison anyone. If my servant is poisoning someone, execute her.” The Baroness said coldly.

“I see...” Havelock said. “Take her outside,” he waved to the girl.

The young boy seemed a bit confused as he stayed with his employer and waited with her as she dipped her tea biscuits into her tea before taking a bite. “What shall we do to find good help these days? Traitors and poisoners, in my home?”

“Yes...” he said.

“The horror. I am sorry, Right Honorable Viscount. I had no idea that there was such treachery. within her, but I should have suspected it was so.”

“Quite...” he said.

*

Meanwhile, Talion and another group approached the granary, turning to watch Imela take the girl outside, whereupon she was not, in point of fact, shot, but told to sit down and wait.

The maid’s eyes were wide and filled with worried tears and when she was not shot she sat and wait for some sort of cue, and she jittered in terror as she hugged herself and took a deep breath. She didn’t immediately speak, as she didn’t want to tempt fate and anger the Viscount’s servants.

The Granary was inspected as there seemed to be a large silo filled with collected harvested wheat, and there were a couple of places where there seemed to be a servant who was hauling the wheat to a truck. He looked surprised and waved.

“Ho’ there, can I help you?” The man asked worriedly.

“Everyone stop work, line up by the track here...” he shouted, voice amplified.

The workers began to approach hesitantly. They had no idea what was going on, except for one man who seemed to be less worried. He watched and stood stiffly and waited for the C’tani to speak.

“Wot’s goin’ on?” one of the farmhands asked.

Talion eyed the man, but didn’t answer, looking at the one who seemed unafraid, “Please tell me your name,” he asked.

“Who?” One of the Tor men asked hesitantly. “Me or Ragnar?” The man asked curiously as he gestured to the burly Tor, with the dark beard and cool green eyes. Talion pointed at the other man, “Ragnar Faulkner.” He said with his arms crossed. “I take it your journey to Mordovia has been revealing?” the man spoke with an accent that seemed to not fit with the others around him.

“Come inside...” he said, waving toward the barn.

“Yes, Sir.” Ragnar said as he followed toward the barn, and stood where he was told to stand. He was respectful and kept carefully within sight.

As the other man followed, Talion looked around, “How did you come to be here then?” he asked.

“I followed my way rampaging through Altea. Heard evidence that slavers were here, and so I came. I’m not from these parts. Though, neither are you, ‘servant of the viscount’.”

“I’m sure,” he said, “did you find any slavers?” he asked.

“Quite a few, though I am fairly sure there’s a textile mill around here somewhere, I haven’t gotten too close, and the other slaver is hiding in a cushy asylum where he can claim madness while his wife is under my constant guard. Though, I hardly expect you shall believe me for words alone. This as well as another grove to the south, but I do not have the means to siege there. I have but a few more months to be able to get enough weapons to do so.”

“Tell me more...” he said, “about this other grove?”

“This grove is an apple orchard, where they raise apples for harvesting, and they use demihumans and beastlings for their chattel.” The Tor gent said with a raised eyebrow. “The problem is that it is by a local militia, and we can’t take it over. Though I suspect it will be less of a problem for you.”

“It wouldn’t be, no. Other than the sword-son in the house, how many here are slaves?” he asked.

“They all are, hell even the wife is. Not that anyone would guess. The Baron also has a very strong prostitution ring in this area, I want to say I know of three strongholds which are by the docks, and the other rackets are in a baker’s house, and the other in a local weapon’s smith. Ask for ‘Change for a Gil’, and you will find yourself being led to the prostitution racket, but so far I’ve only managed to bust perhaps one before I took a bit too hard of a hit to the head.”

“We’ve a doctor, she’ll check you out, then we’ll go do something. Stand outside and look dumb, send the next one in. We’ll talk later.”

“Right, thank you for this.” Ragnar said as he stepped outside the barn, pretending he had no idea why he had been called in. It was clear that Altean talent for acting in his blood had not failed him numerous times. The next servant entered and seemed to be worried.

“Look, I don’t know what you want, but I can’t tell you anything!” he started as outside the farmhands and house servants were bantering.

“So they say that about three of them got uncovered, three!”

“You’re kidding me!” The man asked.

“I shit you not, three lovers and no one knew at all, and that’s why they managed to can Devir outside of Enedhest.” The man said amused.

“Huh, I never bagged him for a cheating man.” The Tor said amused.

“And wait, there’s more.”

“You mean...” The Altean seemed amused.

“She wasn’t even Tor.”

“Hoh hoh hoh, Scandal scandal.” They chattered as the others continued to be interrogated.

Talion asked each a broadly similar set of questions; how did they come to be here, when they’d last seen their family and so forth.

None of them even remembered having a family, and a few of them mentioned that they were ‘newly employed’, so they have no recollection of their previous home. Which of course made them raise their eyebrows as it was a strange thing to mention. A stranger question to ask.

“And that was the last time I saw my son, I think he was eight back then. Might be twenty now. Time does fly so fast. I wish things were different.” The oldest farmhand said with a deep sigh. “Probably married and with children by now.”

Another question that followed, was where they went to worship, too.

“Don’t believe no gods, I do. Don’t even have a temple ‘round here if I did. Gods are for the weak and the simpleminded.” The Tor said slightly bitterly.

“Nah, I don’t think there’s a temple nearby, but I always believed that there was some sort of higher power. That sort of benevolent force that bestows knowledge to mankind over the animals.”

The C’tani asked a few more questions too, ‘what was the best thing you bought in the last month?’

“I don’t buy much, a humble man am I. I got me a bucket of summer vegetables in late winter time. Expensive but worth the buy.” The man said as if it was something he made up on the spot.

“Goat fur pantaloons.” One of the older men said. “Hey don’t judge, they’re the softest pantaloons I have ever had. I don’t think you know the feel of goat furs on your antsies.”

“A pet goose for my son. A very nice goose he was. Well until winter came.” The man cleared his throat. “We got hungry.”

This was a less revealing but more amusing question, and as he left, Talion took only Ragnar with him, back to the main house, passing where the maid was being held under guard.

Ragnar followed and the wife of the Baron was still happily chatting with her guest as she seemed to be calmer now that the poisoner was out of her worries.

“So there was about twenty of them just around the corner, large, but perhaps the right size for use on holiday. That would be the only time I’ve gone out of the premises without my husband’s permission, if I remember correctly. At least this year.”

“If you will excuse me a moment, ‘Viscount’ Havelock said, standing up and walking over to Talion, conversing briefly, studying the man’s reactions to the lady of the house, not so much examining hers.

His reaction was a mix of irritation and pity before he returned to his poker face, seeming to not have any reaction other than what he composed it to be.

“Ah, what is this man doing in my house. He’ll trail mud and then Genira will fuss.”

“I am sure that’s not a problem,” Havelock said, “I imagine you wiped your feet goodman?”

“My mother brought me up right, I did wipe my feet before ent’ring.” He said quickly without looking at the mess much, he seemed to care little at all whether there actually was a mess, because he seemed distracted.

“Good. I need to speak with you,” he said, “I shall take my leave briefly,” he said, to the lady, bowing again, very slightly, the physician falling in with him as they promptly marched Ragnar outside again.

Ragnar looked confused as he looked distracted at the wall. “What is that all about?” He asked with his arms crossed.

The commander waved him toward a vehicle, “Come and see, I am told you know of other sites where the Baron keeps other slaves?” he asked.

[Mystrian Altea]

“There is another estate, but I had trouble getting to it. I can tell you where it is, and lead you there if need be, but I cannot quite break into the premises yet.” The man said with a shrug. “If you can give me a ride, I can take you to the shoreside estate.”

He stepped into the screen laden inside of the transport, typing something on a set of controls, “Let’s take a look first,” he said, bringing up a map of Mordovia. “Where are we talking about?”

“On the Southern side of the lake, there is a small noble house, and it is perhaps a half block from a high end asylum, but this is for the rich and wealthy to get into rehab retreats. They almost are always spas and western baths.”

“I think we can see it from here, you see that one over there?” He asked as they cleared over a hill, and if it was ‘small’ then it was deeply unclear what a large noble household was like. The home was enormous and seemed to be the size of a luxury hotel rather than a single family home. The estate and gardens as well were fairly palatial with elven inspired architecture. Insanely opulent compared to the other area and homes around it.

“Humm. Tell me, is it true you think the Baroness is also treated as a slave?”

“She is forbidden from leaving her estate. She is forbidden from doing that the Baron does not command, and she is treated like a trophy and not a person because she comes from a good family. She’s not treated like a wife by any measure of the word.” The Northman said with disgust.

“Good,” he said, which was an odd reaction, a heartbeat or two passed, “I was not looking forward to arresting her if that had been necessary.”

“I imagine that’s the case. She seems like a nice lady despite her husband being.. well... being a dolt.” The northman said with a frown.

“Now lets head down to the other estate and check it out,” he said, showing an orbital image of their destination, “Do you know what kind of defences there are?”

“I hear he’s got a court mage, which is always bad.” The man said with a frown. “Probably a few guards, and if we are really unlucky a machine gun. Unfortunately there is not that much I can do to check that doesn’t put me or my men in significant danger.”

“A mage you say...”

“A mage.” He said uncomfortably.

“Do you know anything about this mage, Ragnar?” he asked.

“A Necromancer from the old arts. Can end up pushing his mind into a deathlike state in order to destroy.” Ragnar said with a narrowed glance. “Uses bells and strange charter marks in the stone.”

“A necromancer you say? Does he have undead with him, or is that not his particular form?”

“He can enslave and command the souls of the dead, and also he has been seen to command undead, so this much I am aware. Other than that, I’m not sure what particular form he has, I’m not a mage. I’m a miller’s son.”

“Ah, well, I am...” Havelock said, “What of the slaves, do you know how many there are, and how many guards?”

“There’s about 45 slaves on the premises, including of course the Crows, Prostitutes, Household servants, and also the Farmhands and Factory slaves. They are usually clustered in the areas they work in. It’s hard to tell which ones are crows, and which are regular paid mercenaries however, so be careful.”

“Is the mage in charge, or is there someone else in authority who’s present?”

“There’s of course the Lord, the Baron who is in charge. The mage is merely a servant to the Baron.” The miller said with a shrug. “He is powerful however, so be careful.”

“The Baron is in the sanitorium though, and so should not trouble us...”

“He is the one in charge of the whole thing, his being in the Asylum is an act. So he can get an out once you barge down his doors. ‘I am insane, criminally insane, I don’t know what wrong and right is’. Excuses.” Ragnar said as he looked over at them. “You don’t really believe that he is crazy do you?”

“It doesn’t matter. If he is insane, he will be detained and transferred to our custody, as he is clearly not safe to be in a position of authority, if not, then he will be excecuted. Wait here, my people will remain here, I am going across the lake.”

“Very well.” Ragnar said as he bowed his head respectfully. Across the lake it could easily be seen with its oddly decadent elven structures and beautiful architectural design. There was a few farmhands outside of the building attempting to work the land carefully for the growing of cassava.

Havelock didn’t go immediately to the building, waiting until his backup was in position, further down the lake, necron vehicles slipped under the water, as did the necrons themselves, moving across the lake bottom slowly to spread out near the waterline. Beneath the waves, there seemed to be no indication that there was much life immediately but as they continued in they could see various cichlids and some shadows that didn’t seem to be much like fish. They kept their distance from the Necrons, and merely watched.

A serpent-like necron broke off from the group to investigate one of the shadows, swimming through the water as though it were born to it. The creatures that seemed to stare back at the serpent-like necron were not afraid of it, but were instead rather curious. They seemed to have humanoid forms from their waist above, and possessed the form of carps from the waist down. They had startling eyes with enormous irises and hardly any whites to them, and they had a sheen to suggest that a film was pulled over them to not damage their eyes or impact their sight. One of the creatures seemed to speak quietly among the others and then backed away timidly once more.

They were of course, expected, and the creature before them contemplated for a moment; modern necrons were equipped to speak in many ways, and had a broad selection of languages within their secondary systems, in some cases quite alien. It switched to the most common underwater language of Spirean Seabound, Aquan, Alteans not having been properly catalogued yet. “Ah, hello, do you understand me?”

“Ah, the gud man schpeaks Vestern.” One of the creatures said cheerfully. “Haf the Vesterners learned new thinks for use of robots?” The creature seemed to be confused for a moment. “But it seems so life like!”

“I am not a Spirean, I am from much further than that. My name is Sarintel. We are here on the lands around to police Altea. Do you know much of the shores?”

“Sharintel? Ja, vee do not go near zee shores. Too dangerous. Zere are monsters upp zere!” The strange creature said with an uncomfortable glance. “Zey go to shore. Visit, ja? Zey end up never köming back.” The creature said as he got uncomfortably close. They seemed to not understand personal space or personal boundaries.

Sarintel did not care, of course, that they got close to his metallic frame, “Where was that, that way?” he asked, pointing toward the head of the column, and the necromancer’s building.

“Ja, it is zer ver no one köms back. Not for year of passing time. Many year of passing times, and never is back. Can I ask vere yoo köm from?” The creature asked genially while literally hanging off the metallic frame.

“The C’tan Empire, and the planet of Duat, which is very far away from here. We shall see if we can find out what happened to your people. It is likely we will not find them though.”

“We have no hope of finding them alive, Herr. It’s unexpected that people enter the depths without having a killing intent, but this is why we were baffled by your presence.” one of the young mermen said. His enormous eyes were hazel and he had short dark hair, and seemed to have a fluid manner of speaking, unlike the others. It was clear that he spoke Spirean Aquan fluently.

“We shall see what can be found, anyway,” Sarintel said, “thank you for your time.”

They watched and slunk deeper into the safety and chill of the dark-waters. As the necrons reached closer to the shoreline, there were more large forest like vegetation with many various sea creatures bobbling past them, regarding the necrons with little surprise. A few of the creatures seemed to follow and mimic their movement, particularly a type of large octopus that seemed to attempt to mimic their movements and their hues. It even managed to make glowing eyes and features like the necrons, moving in step before drifting off. The villa would be up ahead, and with the persons inside being non-the wiser on what lie beneath the depths.

On the surface, Havelock and a small group of his men approached, their vehicles stopping at the edge of the other estate, and the group disembarking, only ten in all, dressed in scarlet cloaks and grey body armour that seemed to constantly want to change colour to match its surroundings.

It was an advantage as well, as the decadence of the Baron’s home was so great, that he even had trees that were from the Faerin Valdur, which were known for their sudden shifting appearances and the strange chiming that seemed to exude from the leaf veins. The area would on occasion shift and the tree would change color. The C’tani were far enough away that the guard had not noticed at all. He began his patrol again in another direction, first believing that one of the seal seabound may have emerged from the depths. It had been a while since they were spotted, so he wasn’t sure if there were any anymore. He couldn’t be too careful, and approached the craggy rock face and peeked over at the shore, still not spotting the Necron’s positions.

The C’tani orderites didn’t seem inclined to make their approach any kind of subtle, however, marching up the road with a pair of drone-tanks following them, and soon it was quite impossible to miss the humans (and necrontyr, elves, and others) quite able to distract from the underwater necrons.

A pair of guards approached the edge of the property, approaching the orderites. One was tall and had tanned skin and dark eyes, the other was shorter and more rotund, with peppery grey hair with brown streaks and a thick mustache.

“No solicitors, please. We aren’t interested in what you are selling!” The tall one said with a frown. “Trespassers without a permit shall be shot. This is a warning!”

“We’re not trespassers,” one of the C’tani called, “we have tanks.”

“You’re not permitted in the premises, leave now, this is your final warning!” The guards said annoyedly before engaging one another in quiet whispers to one another. They radioed another guard, and began to speak.

“We got hostile trespassers in front. Claim to have a tank.” The guard said with a confused manner. He listened nodded, and then responded back to whatever the other guy said in his headpiece with: “Understood.”

“Where is your tank, and by what authority do you trespass on the land of Baron Cargen Mordov?” the guard asked still keeping his distance.

Four armoured vehicles hovered behind them, massive and armed heavily. “We are the law. We are here on the authority of the state, and we do not trespass, we have the right to inspect any facility we please.”

“Do you have any written proof to the statements you have made?” the Tall guard asked as the portly man’s eyes widened and his forehead was breaking with a bit of a sweat. The Tall guard seemed to be unimpressed, and maintained the same bored expression on his face, his warm brown eyes seemed to trace the shape of the C’tani people as he seemed to shrug off the worries of his comrade who backed away instinctively.

“Come here,” Havelock said, with the kind of weary tone that suggested he was not amused by this.

The chubby man hung back and the tall one approached without worry and cracked his fingers as he reached into his pocket and removed a small notepad and seemed to take a few notes as he walked rather stiffly toward the C’tani, not watching where he was walking, and yet not stumbling nor aimless in his manner. He stopped right in front of Havelock, and finally tucked his notebook in his breast pocket.

“Papers, please.” He said monotonously, as he looked back at Havelock with a sense of not paying complete attention, or at least disregard of being close to enormous deadly weapons.

The C’tani held out a sleek looking metal wallet with a glowing badge in the sigil of the C’tani state, and a three sided symbol less well known, that glowed softly in his touch, with various pieces of text.

The Bearer of this Warrant is an authorised law enforcement office and requires full cooperation from all persons. Failure to cooperate with investigation or peacekeeping operations is a criminal offence and carries serious penalty. Seventh Order Central Command, Altean Occupation Forces.

There were other, similar statements, though no names, ranks, or identification numbers. The tall gentleman looked at the symbol and reread the papers several times. And his expression didn’t seem to change and he took a moment to speak in the radio, oddly enough right in front of Havelock.

“They seem to possess some authorization, It’s quite clear that they’re not merely trespassers. Am I allowed to let them pass?” He asked and the C’tani could hear the angry response as the guard removed the earpiece slightly before a loud shout could be heard, but naturally it was not blowing the man’s eardrums out as he seemed to anticipate this reaction.

“TELL THEM TO SHOVE OFF AND LEAVE! WE’RE NOT INTERESTED IN ANYTHING THEY ARE SELLING.” The voice in the earpiece said ferociously.

“They aren’t selling anything, Ser. They are from the police, I think... are you guys police or something?” He asked Havelock quite obviously.

“ARE YOU TALKING TO THEM? TELL THEM TO LEAVE! ” the earpiece shouted.

“My Master has requested that you vacate the premises, I think. I’m not entirely sure. I’m... but are you the police really?” The man asked as he seemed to have that same bored expression.

“Order of Peace, to be precise, but we are police yes.”

“I thought so, you have a police sort of vibe. I had no idea that the police were even allowed back here. I imagine it’s the whole...” He pointed stiffly and awkwardly at the house behind him. “Looking like an elf castle thing. Am I right? Even still, my master has said you should leave, and it’s probably a good idea to do so. Well, I wouldn’t want there to be problems, and you could probably easily destroy me.” He said as he openly counted the tanks. “That would be four tanks... problematic. But let’s see...” He held the earpiece to his ear for a moment again and waited before speaking in a mildly playful way.

“Maaaaster..... maaaaaster..... MAAAAAASTER.”

“WHAAAAAAAAT?” The earpiece shouted.

“They have four tanks.” He said with a pained sort of grimace. “Also I can hear you when you speak normally into the thing. I like it when you whisper instead. Else what am I going to do, none of that sultry speaking to me? C’mon!” He said in a strange tone of voice, so as to give the impression that he was not perhaps taking it seriously.

“Just tell them to get inside then, but guide them yourself, don’t let them anywhere near places you know they shouldn’t go!” The earpiece shouted, not particularly aware that the C’tani could still hear everything.

“Yes, Master, I promise I’ll give them the greatest tour!” He said with his bored monotone voice returning before he turned it off. The fatter chap seemed to be holding off still, waiting for an indication of what to do.

“Master said I could give the police a tour! You can go off and I’ll handle it from here!” He said with a strange smile, it seemed odd and forced. He waved off the other man who didn’t seem like he needed to listen more before bolting off. “Oh... and if you are bringing your tanks in, be sure to wipe its feet off of mud, it would be terrible to have to clear away all that mess.” He said waving for the C’tani to follow.

“Stay here for a moment...” he said, “I have some questions for you first.”

“A question?” He looked over and seemed to have the same expression. “Ask a question, and I shall give a proper response.”

“How did that man come to be your master?”

“What a strange question! I don’t know how to answer it, I just, he’s always been my master. It was the case since even before I existed.” the man said with a glance back at the gate. “Ah, those are the sentry gates, and they are made of soft copper, but they’re terrible for gates, so they are repeatedly replaced. The stone path here’s composition is made of composite concrete, which is more effective, because it holds longer, and needs less time to replace! Oh, right, you have another question, and I will give another answer.”

“Are you a crow, or a slave?” either answer meant the same thing of course, to him.

“Ah, the corvus species! They’re interesting creatures, I mean I have seen them feast upon garbage and corpses alike. Truly admirable creatures. Though, by the lack of my plumage, we can agree that I am probably not a crow. Also, I would have to be a person in order to be a slave wouldn’t I? Is it not an operative definition that something must first be a person to be a slave? How are we defining this position?”

“You are not a person? You look like one...” he said, eyes narrowing slightly.

“A straw man looks like a person, but it is not a person.” The man said as he gestured to the area past the gate. “Hurry along, we must get this tour done in an hour, or my master will be angry!”

“I require no tour, thank you,” he said, and prepared to walk through the gate, pausing just ahead of it, hand lowered across his body to the hilt of his sword.

The man seemed to be hyper aware that the C’tani was reaching for its blade and stepped forward into a side lunge which immediately made him face the C’tani. “You are going to use that on me?”

“No,” he said, drawing it slowly, the blade a strange blue colour, almost crystal, almost plastic, made of a dozen pieces and seeming almost stitched together into a whole, metal lines snaking over it in a zigzagging pattern that linked it together. “No I’m not going to use it on you.”

“Very well, so the tour, it is something sort of non-negotiable, you see how my master is, so it would be a bad idea to say no to his rules. Since you are the police, however, I think I can help if there is anything you need to find. I’m sure if you’re looking for a restroom, it wouldn’t be hard to find, or perhaps gas?”

He, without apparent warning, violently stabbed the force-blade into the copper gate-frame, channeling obscene energies into it that were usually more than sufficient to cremate a man instantly or rip his soul asunder, or in this case, as he intended, to unwend certain enchantments.

The man watched still with no change to his expression. The enchantments into the gate did indeed scatter, but there was no alteration to the man’s affect or expression.

“Aw, now you’ve done it. My master is going to kill me. If you had any idea how long it takes to get that done, you’d not have done that at all. Just a moment.” He said as he put the earpiece back on.

“Maaaaster..... maaaaaster..... MAAAAAASTER.”

“WHAAAAAAAAT?” The earpiece shouted.

“They have broken the gate. With a sword. It’s probably going to take a while to replace it. I will fix it when they leave.”

“THEY DID WHAAAAT? KILL THEM.”

“Very well.” The man said with a nod of his head. “My master said I had to kill you, but you’re a policeman. It’s probably a bad idea, so would you die please? That would be nice....”

“Okay, give me a moment,” he said, “Ask him if there’s any way in particular he wants me to die?”

“Of course.” He said obediently. “Maaaaster..... maaaaaster..... MAAAAAASTER.”

“WHAAAAAAAAT?” The earpiece shouted.

“He wants to know how in which particular way I should kill him. It is actually a good question!” The man said with still the bored expression.

“WHAT? You’re talking to him? JUST BE CREATIVE DAMN YOU.”

“That is so terribly vague. I have many ways I could kill him, but I do not know which one would be the best particular way you want him to die in. What about... Well I have a gun, a knife missile, and a few objects of curio, like this strange sword.” He said as he drew his sword. “But of course, those are terribly uncreative. Clearly I need a better idea. I’ll wait and think of a good on-”

“JUST SHOOT HIM!” The earpiece shouted.

“Yes, Master.” He said as he pulled it off. “My master has asked me to shoot you, so I was wondering if you could hold still for a moment!” He said as he drew his weapon out and pointed it at the C’tani, but he didn’t immediately shoot.

The other C’tani raised their weapons, while Havelock leaned his head forward a little, “Did he say when?”

“Nope, nor where. I should probably call him back. Let’s see...” He holstered his weapon for a moment and called once more.

“Hold it!”

“Hm? What’s it. Do you have a question? If you ask a question I can give an answer.” The man said with a shift of his weight for a moment.

“Did he say what you have to shoot me with?” he asked.

“You’re right! He most certainly didn’t. I should call him to make sure, otherwise how am I supposed to shoot you, and imagine if I shot you with the wrong thing, on the wrong spot, and at the wrong time. My Master would surely kill me. That would be problematic, most likely.”

He reached for his earpiece and attempted to call his master. “Maaaaster..... maaaaaster..... MAAAAAASTER.”

“WHAAAAAAAAT?” The earpiece shouted.

“When am I supposed to shoot the Policeman? What should I shoot him with, and also where should I shoot him?” The man asked still with the same expression.

“OH FOR FUCKS SAKE, JUST SHOOT HIM, WITH A GUN, NOW.”

“But master, now has already passed.”

“SHOOT HIM A MINUTE FROM NOW.”

“Yes, Master.” The man said with a forced smile.

“My master said I must shoot you a minute from then, it will be only about 35 seconds, from the moment I said thirty five.”

Whereupon the C’tani proceeded to jump on the fellow for all intents and purposes, four of them reaching to restrain him.

They would find that the man was horrifically strong, and heavy as can be, and he seemed to be unaffected in the slightest emotionally by being jumped, and instead was still mechanically counting, with proper attention to the right moment. Even when he was on the ground. Whereupon he was reaching fifteen.

“Fourteen, thirteen, twelve, eleven, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one...” He quickly forced his monstrous weight forward and attempted to grab his gun, but it was very fruitless. “Oh dear, I was unable to shoot you a minute from then, this might be a problem. My apologies in advance for my failure.” the man said without a single change nor a grunt of effort.

The C’tani were surprised, but made a point to try and take the gun from him, while another went for the headset, to remove it. The gun was easily grabbed, and the man did not struggle further, as the time had already elapsed and as far as he was concerned, it was a specific shot he missed, and it needn’t be followed through once he failed to achieve his objective. The headset was picked up, and there wasn’t a word on the line as they retrieved it.

They mashed it to pieces, of course, and Havelock looked curiously at the man, reaching out through the ether to sense the man’s heartbeat, if indeed he had such.

There was no heartbeat, but there certainly was a pulsing warmth, but it was not physically of muscle. It seemed to originate from deep in dead center behind where there would be a ribcage.

“Oh, you have broken master’s device. He will not be pleased at all.” The man said, but not without having slightly moved his wrist, attempting to adjust it to another position.

“Okay, enough,” he said, “Stay here.”

“Very well.” He said as he seemed to take such a matter quite literally and didn’t so much as move an inch and watched to see where the C’tani would go.

Havelock wheeled on the shorter man, “Where’s the ‘master’ now?” he asked.

“S-STAY AWAY!” He shouted as he rushed off toward the left. The taller man seemed to be aware of the movement and simply let out a strange sound.

“He was certainly not supposed to do that. Master will be very angry. I hope he doesn’t kill him. He does not like to die, I mean what with his saying, ‘I DON’T WANT TO DIE! I DON’T WANT TO DIE!’ So many times last week. Master will probably kill him.”

“Where is the master, I think I shall talk to him...” Havelock said.

“I can take you to him, if you need to. But, I cannot get up so this might be a problem.” The man said with a glance. “I could also tell you where he is, but that is a lot of complicated things you would need to remember. Master has a lot of things that are somewhat dangerous around, and if you make a mistake with them you will probably die.”

“Speak...” he said, “Quickly.”

“Well, you will have to enter the palace, and go down the western corridor, don’t go right, or you may find yourself a poison dart pincushion, and once you go down the western corridor you will need to enter the third room with a green door, don’t look at any of the other colored doors, they do not count, wait until you get past the third door that you see that is green. Once you enter, tap the knob three times, and enter. Once you enter, avoid the spinning blades to the right, go down the stairs, head through the narrow passage platform, don’t attempt to fall off the platform or you will die. Then when you get past the pendulum blades, you enter through the small grate beneath the painting. It looks much smaller than it is, but that’s because it is at an angle. Once you get past the grate you will slide into a small three way passage, and then you will need to take the northern passage, the door is to the left, but you should always knock, master doesn’t like it if you don’t knock.”

“I... think I know just the bug for this...” he said, stepping back. Across the estate, the necrons began march out of the lake, accompanied by their vehicles. Outnumbering Ragnar’s estimate of the defenders twenty to one.

The guards did not expect the necrons to emerge from the water, and immediately began firing, and attempted to force them back to the waterline.

In this case however, they were able to absorb the damage rather easily, and returned fire only vaguely, as a swarm of robotic bugs broke off from the group moving toward the house, directed by the recording of what had been said to Havelock, as he too, entered the estate, with his group.

The men continued to fire back, but found that the necrons were not even dented, which began to crush the morale, a few men scattered away, the last reserves of their weapons empty. The others bravely held, but did not so much as leave an impression upon the living steel. The scarabs in the meantime began to skitter toward the location, avoiding dangerous traps and awfully positioned objects, the hallway to the west was filled with many multi-colored doors, and the third green one was exactly as was said. The spinning blades and the pendulum blades did in fact exist inside the house. The room which was indicated by the man to be the Master’s room was closed and locked. The metal eating bugs of course, made certain to disable the traps before the human and his group entered, walking a few meters behind them, before one of the creatures nestled on the locked door.

“Knock knock,” Havelock said, and the scarab exploded in a burst of light, enough to demolish the door and parts of the wall around. He held his blade out to the side, both hands on the hilt.

“The Baron’s servant was sitting on the chair, across from the Baron himself who seemed more than perturbed by the explosion that upset half of the wall.

“I should have knew that the damned construct would have failed. Explosives inside a house, and here I thought you’d be far more fucked over from having C’tani in your ranks. So, Arveth, deal with the intruders.” The baron said as his servant cast a spell around Baron Mordov who seemed to be even more annoyed at the fact that the City Guard were in his house than the C’tani, for which he had no reason to believe they were specifically so.

Havelock, meanwhile, was pleased to see the other man turning his attentions to the baron, at the age of thirteen he had discovered a talent that he was using now, drawing power from the abyss, driving it into the man’s body, the power he used was focussed on extremities, an alteration of the living body, to wear down joints and bones and grind them one into another; it was rather effective on most magi. And the Mage was indeed immediately affected, the effect of the spell making him fall to his knees from the pain, and wanting to stress upon his body less. He took the moment to quickly attempt to hold his arm up and cast a fireball spell in the direction of the C’tani.

The force sword flashed forward, burning with actinic light that flowed from within it as he cut toward the outstretched hand, the temperature of the thing enough to cut metal, and the power within it drawing from its wielder's will to kill, oftentimes, even a single scratch was lethal. On this occasion, Havelock aimed to cut the hand off; whether the man survived or not didn’t matter.

The man’s hand was bisected at the wrist, and he screamed in agony as he placed his other hand upon the stump and attempted to let a flame spell cauterize the wound before he made another spell. The pain, however was horribly distracting, and he couldn’t concentrate on the spell at all. The next blow was more directed, straight through the chest, with enough power to blacken flesh to ash.

The blade sliced dead center through the ribs, and quickly burned horrifyingly roasting his innards, the terrible cry making the Baron pause as he still attempted to get away, knowing now that the mage’s protective enchantment was already lifted due to his life being taken.

“Fuck.... this is not going to end well.” He muttered to himself. He looked around and forgot which door he was supposed to rush through and attempted to reach for one of them, the door he opened to his fortune did not have a trap, and it allowed him to regain his sense and he recalled the proper direction to flee.

Havelock had been a child when he had first discovered the power to remould flesh, it had been something he had found out only in a moment of crisis, crashing his mother's skiff, hardening his own form by reflex. A talent that he had honed under long tutelage since, but despite that, it had always been something he found easier and more effective in moments of danger, if not, perhaps he would be using it medically. As it was, he had other inclinations, drawing the power from his mind again and envisioning a taut wire between him and the fleeing man, and a wellspring of energy within him that he used to electrify the baron; the thought became action, and a crawling bolt of energy surged, unlike more obvious forms, this would do little damage, but burn nerves and strain the body, it was unlikely to kill; Havelock did not want to kill, but it was intimately, excruciatingly painful, not mere electricity but the very being of one body set within and turned against another.

The pain was so horrifyingly excruciating that the Baron convulsed and vomited upon the ground, his entire being was filled with the desire for him to die so that the pain would end, and yet, he didn’t die, and it did not end. He screamed and his bowels were still in a horrific state from the sheer stress. Once it ceased, the Baron would be lying prone upon the ground. Two more of the Orderites siezed him and strapped his arms behind him, and pulled him up to his knees.

“Who are you?” Havelock demanded.

“Who are YOU? What gives you the right to attack a man in his own home and to kill his servants?”

“This,” Havelock said, pouring a fraction of the previous energy out into the man’s spine and body, holding out his hand from which lightning crackled. The man yowled as he tried for a moment to utter comprehensible words, and failed before he could catch his breath once more.

“Name!” he shouted.

“C-C-Cargen Mordov...” The Baron stammered as he attempted to control his stomach.

You are under arrest on suspicion of enslaving persons,” Havelock began, “You are warned that anything you say may be used to establish your guilt before a court of law. You have the right not to answer any questions, if you so choose, and the right to legal counsel, if you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be assigned to you. Any attempt to escape may be met with lethal force... which will really hurt.”

“I... want legal counsel.” He said as he didn’t resist.

“I bet you do,” he said, grabbing the man and marching him back the way he’d come, and out of the building.

As he was marched out, the remaining men surrendered, and did not further shoot at the necrons, and the ‘construct’ merely watched and did nothing before letting out a:

“Hello master!” and as the Baron was taken to the vehicles the man said “Goodbye Master!”

“Oh yes. You can tell all the people here they’re free, starting with him,” Havelock said.

“But... he’s... very well.. You are all free, and there’s nothing to say that it was otherwise. These accusations are slanderous!”

The C’tani, and the necrons, moved through the estate carefully, attempting to round up guards, and workers, of different types, as the baron was chained to a transport, again, open-topped, the insult value of such things calculated.

There were men, women, and children in the estate. Some of them quite obviously were prostitutes and their children, and others were concubines and sword children, and others were quite clearly workers and farmhands. The number of servants and slaves were far more than Ragnar realized, and more than were conceivable, and to their misfortune they also picked up a few corpses of a few who attempted to escape, but were met by the traps. There were also various races that were within, humans, dwarves, beastlings, changelings, elves, and a pair of treefolk.

“Now, Baron, why don’t you announce to the good people what you just did to our construct friend out there?” Havelok said.

“Aren’t I supposed to keep silent or something?” The Baron asked blankly.

“You can,” he said, “but it’ll help your case if you cooperate.”

“No it can’t not until my lawyer tells me what is helpful to communicate and what isn’t, until we get my lawyer I am saying nothing.”

“No matter, you already told one person they were free, that’s enough confession,” he said, and struck the Baron, turning his back on him to address the crowd, “Good people, gather ‘round, I have news for you all!” he cried.

“What’s your news?” The construct asked still not sure if there was much need for him to command the others at the moment, there seemed to be little reason to believe it would be anything particularly shocking.

One of the women looked over at the C’tani, and she seemed to be watching and listening intently.

“Yonder Baron is under arrest, on the suspicion of keeping people as slaves; I dare say many of you are the victims of such abuse,” he said, looking back at Baron Mordov, his expression a glower of contempt, “those of you who wish to return to your homes will be helped to do, while those of you who have questions should ask shortly, unless there is a pressing need for it to be done, all work should cease, as this place will be yours from now on.”

There was a look of confusion as some of the slaves seemed to scatter and the others seemed to be pestering the other slaves who were guards for some reason. They began to argue loudly and there was an ensuing scuffle.

“Cease this fighting!” Havelock said, “You there, tell me what’s going on here,” he said, pointing at one of those protesting.

“He won’t tell us where they are, and unless he does he’s going to REGRET it!” One of the women said.

“I don’t KNOW where it is, I have no idea what you’re talking about!” The guard said frustratedly.

“Oh don’t you play dumb with me you damned bastard. I know that you and your people know exactly where they keep all of them, and if you don’t tell us where they’re keeping them I swear, every single prostitute here will KILL you.”

“Like hell they will, it’s not hard to slap me a whore, and I am not going to admit to what I don’t know even if I wanted to, and at this rate, I have no fucking desire to help you. Fuck off!”

Havelock looked at the man, his face visible and looking unamused behind the visor, “What are they talking about? What have you people taken, children?”

“I haven’t taken any of them, I told the lady, I don’t know where the nursery is, and I don’t know where our master kept the kids, just that it wasn’t me who was guarding them. I can’t tell you or them what I don’t know.”

“Let’s ask the baron...” he said, looking at Mordov, still tied to the Gaol Ark, walking back toward him and the guards beside him, “The nice people have some questions for you...” he said.

“Haven’t I already said I’m not speaking until I talk to my attorney?” Lord Mordov said as he looked at the growing group of discontented women. “What?”

“Where is my boy! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HIM?” She asked angrily as she attempted to push past the C’tani.

He held out an arm, “I don’t think you get it, you see...” he said, looking at the Baron, “I am a biomancer, it means I have a talent, of sorts. Can you guess what that is?”

“You’ve already demonstrated what you could do, thanks. I have no desire to speak further unless it involves my talking to my lawyer. Do you all not understand proper common? I will say nothing.”

“No, here’s how it works, I can’t force you to talk. I can however provide medical treatment. So if the nice ladies and gentlemen go and say, get some cutlery, and start putting holes in you, I can keep you alive, as long as I need to... and they can keep doing it... until you tell them.”

“Y-You can’t do that, you’re supposed to ensure assault doesn’t happen don’t you? What kind of police are you?” The Baron’s mouth dried as he looked over at the very angry women attempting to force their way to the Baron angrily.

“We’re army, not police. Our job is to hunt slavers and fuck ‘em up, we don’t care about petty crimes, like stabbing a slaver, which isn’t even a crime, per se. Out with it...”

“What do you want from me?” He asked worriedly as he recoiled away from the women.

“Where is my son?!” She screamed angrily.

“It’s not here, he’s somewhere else at a caretakers. I don’t know where the caretaker has taken them.”

“Don’t lie to me boy, I know you’re not telling the whole truth.” Havelock said.

“Look I don’t know where the Caretaker has taken the kids, he’s not meant to be anything other than discreet.”

“Or return them, is he?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s a caretaker, so of course he’s going to return them, but I can’t have the kids picked up until after I speak with my lawyer.”

“You are stupid,” Havelock said, “Give me names and numbers, now, or I will turn you loose.”

“Calling me names is not going to make you any less responsible for murder, you haven’t proved I am a slaver at all.”

“Cargen Mordov, you are hereby notified that all charges against you are dropped and you are released without stain on your character...” he began, releasing his wrists.

“W-Wait, don’t I… Wait… I need to talk to the police.” The Baron shouted as he backed away from the people carefully.

The C’tani grabbed him again, by the upper arms, several of them. “Let me make this clear, kid. My orders are first to rescue slaves, and then a distant tenth, punish slavers. If I think doing anything to you will help me rescue slaves, I’ll do it,” Havelock said. “Ladies, kindly fetch some knives.”

“Let me go! You have no reason to hold me at all, release me right now!” He flailed angrily as he attempted to get Havelock off him, and the women carefully entered the trap leaden house. After a few moments, perhaps five minutes or so, they would return with gardening shears.

“Let’s be clear,” the C’tani said, “You’ll live. But you will look like fried meat, and then you’ll be passed onto real torturers.”

“Let me go, I have nothing I can do for you! Let me go!” He shouted as he attempted to wrench himself free and the women were shouting angrily.

“GIVE HIM HERE! GIVE HIM HERE!” They called.

“Last chance. I want a name and number. Now.”

“It is Maiester Giavanoli, and I don’t have his number, I talk to him and he talks to me when he wants to.”

“It’s a fucking crow isn’t it?” the C’tani snapped.

“I have no proof he is a Crow! How would I even know a crow when I see one?” He shouted in terror, still attempting to avoid the women frustratedly.

“Happily, for you, we have a use for your body intact...” he said.

“What are you talking about?” the man asked as he attempted to catch his breath, the angry Prostitutes flailing as they still attempted to clear past the C’tani.

“Ladies,” Havelock said, “listen for a moment.”

“I want my son! GIVE ME MY SON BACK!”

“We will do everything we can to get him back, but that means we need this man alive and intact, so that we can trap this man he sold your children to. After that, he will face justice, and eventually die.”

“But my boy, I want my boy back…” The woman fell to her knees sobbing as another woman helped her to her feet and the first woman threw the shears at the feet of the C’tani.

“You better keep your promise. If you don’t, I will definitely not ever forgive you.” She said coldly.

“I’m willing to listen if you’ve any better ideas on finding them,” he said, attempting to sound kind, crouching. “I’m sorry I can’t get him for you now, and if I could, I’d be doing that, but I will not rest until I have found him.”

“The problem is that the fucking crows are not willing to be found, you want to find a single thread in a jacket, you will have to tear the jacket apart, and crows are slippery, if my son has been… sold to the crows… I may never see him again. Do you understand this? I don’t know if you can keep your promise so don’t make it, but if you let him go I will curse you endlessly.”

“I understand, but I don’t accept it. It will take some time, no more...” he said. He looked up at Mordov with a grim smirk. “You will enjoy helping us.”

“I don’t want to die, I want a deal.” He said with a frown.

“Make your offer, while you’re still you...”

“What do you mean while I’m still me?” He said not liking this line of thought. “I can help you find the crows, but…”

“But what?” he demanded.

“IT’S ASKING A LOT. Those are assassins damn your eyes. If you want to make enemies of an entire guild of assassins then go ahead, but I don’t want my name coming up at all on this.”

“They are already our enemies. How can you help?”

“I can get you in contact with some members of their cells, but I don’t know if I can get you in contact with their guildmaster. That would take a miracle I can’t make happen.”

“Fear not... miracles are made by men.”

The Central Dockside
The City of Mordovia

The Baron of Mordov had given the C’tani a location on the central dockside, and it seemed to be in a shady area where there was a lot of working class and poor Mordovians and a group of prostitutes ostentatiously attempting to get the attentions of the passers by. Some among them were missing teeth, and others were younger than they should be, seeming to be only in the early stages of prepubescence. They did not seem to miss the attentions of the Baron and waved enthusiastically as they seemed to recognize him.

The guards he had with him were mercenaries, and it was unlikely they knew precisely what was going on, as they had not actually been around when the Necrons set to work on the Baron, placing the thing currently nesting inside his skull inside his mind. The surgery was not done in a conventional manner, rather the thing co-existed in the same space as him, and only interacted, just enough to control certain nerve impulses. The voice it created in his head was the least invasive effect.

+++Keep going. Behave naturally...+++

It was like having something trapped inside one’s ear, rasping and gnawing on the bones within, painful to hear, impossible to ignore. It was capable of making him speak, but for now it desired his own words. It was also capable of far far worse than that, it had assured him.

“Ladies, please, there’s enough of Cargen for everybody. Now, if you don’t mind, can one of you ladies please give me some change for a shilling?” The Baron said with a nudge. One of the women seemed to recognize what he meant, and led him aside and to a small hole in the wall. There was a small apartment building in the corner and the Baron was led into the building. The woman gestured and as the door was shut, she closed and locked the door.

“Were you followed?” She asked him with a sharp tense manner of speaking. She quickly began locking the door.

“No, haven’t got anyone on me, I just needed to talk to the guild to settle a problem I am having, it’s a minor trifle and easy money to make. I’m sure you can set me to speak with one of your soldatos?” The Baron asked as the woman seemed vexed.

“The heat’s a little bit difficult to perform up to standards, but we’ll put the candidates up to handle the situation who do you need dealt with?” The Baron hesitated.

+++Pick an easy target. A slave perhaps, that you no longer have.+++

“There’s a problematic woman I used to deal with quite often, Qagleneki and she’s probably burdened with child, and they’re taking all sword wives from good and proper Tor men, I need her dealt with and for no one to know it has happened or for it to look like it was a mere accident. Perform to my specifications, and you’ll be rewarded handsomely. Her name is Genira, and she tends to my wife.”

“Very well, it will be dealt with in three weeks or so, it is difficult to assign candidates in the area recently now that we’ve heard that the C’tan are somewhere in the region.”

“What C’tan? Oooh the foreigners. They’re no threat to you.” the Baron said with a dismissive wave. “mere fools from far away with no knowledge of politics.” he hesitated once more.

+++You have not seen us.+++

“But they’re not here in my Barony, and I of all people would know what is happening in my Barony, rest assured, they are not here. After all, why in the demon’s names would they bother to come to Mordovia? It has very little of value, not even foxkin pelts.”

+++That is sufficient.+++ the genderless thing’s tone seemed annoyed.

“Right, we’ll need to be discreet so I’ll be on my way and wire the money to your candidate once you succeed, I’ll drop by again.” The Tor gent said as he kissed the woman on the cheek and stepped out the door. “I’ll be on my way.”

The mechanical parasite remained silent, letting him behave ‘naturally.’

He stepped out the door and headed down the stairs and attempted to head back down the street and headed toward the Docks again, he was nervous and shook a bit as he headed toward the lakeside dock and sat down, letting his feet hang off the side.

“What the fuck am I doing? What am I doing… what in Terra and all this damned plane am I doing? This is going to end badly, not going to end well, not good, not good at all.” He muttered in a frenzy. He tried to dip his hands in the water, and then dipped them again.

+++You are attempting to save yourself from being deported to a death orchard.+++

“I am? I don’t even know what a death orchard is, and I think it’s rather ominous a name for what is likely a firing squad. What are you going to do with me?” The man asked as he took a deep breath and let his hand brush the water again to calm down.

+++It is our current trial-run death sentence programme. You will be deported to a distant prison world, where you will be assigned harvesting work. Survival time is between eight and twelve hours.+++

“What the hell are you harvesting, and where? Are you merely pulling souls of demons out of hell? What are you going to do with me? Have I been uncooperative?”

+++It is your soul that will be harvested.+++

“How can one harvest away a soul?” The man asked. “The thought that this could be possible, is… unthinkable. I am going to pray and hope that you will leave me alone. I don’t know how else I can actually fix what you want me to fix, but I’ll do it.”

+++You are doing well. It is likely you will be spared this.+++

“I don’t know that I can be, haven’t I just killed someone?” He asked as he continued to observe the water surface and was startled by a small fish. The fish moved away from his hand and he backed away. He merely sat upon the dock and waited for the Necrons to move.

The creature inside his head was quiet, for a time. +++It is unlikely+++

“Very well, it is done.” He said with a tired glance, and he sighed as back in the apartment the woman was consulting with candidates within the guild using a small warded bird. During times of upheaval it was safer to avoid electronic messaging and anything that was remotely traceable, and to instead resort to old magic from the times of the ancients. The bird flew out the window, a small sparrow, and it seemed to be directed in a specific flight pattern.

it was tracked, of course, not by electronic means, but by optical, a cousin to the thing inside the Baron watching from far above the clouds with a hawk-like gaze. +++You are eager to be pitied, Baron+++ the voice burred, +++but I doubt you were ever one for giving pity. Look at yourself, creature. You are a creature who raises children to be killed, his own children no less, and sells others away from their parents. Why do you think it is going to be so easy to pay for your crimes as to cooperate for a few hours?+++

“No.” He said simply. He didn’t look away from the shore and seemed to reach for a stone to skip it off the surface, succeeding on a second and third bounce. As he did the bird was quickly traced to where it landed in a small empty barrel outside of an empty warehouse. There was no one to receive the drop right away. After the third hour a homeless man reached into the barrel and tried to fiddle with the inside of the barrel and removed three apples and the drop note.

[The Ctan]

Eirin Greythorn Jail, Mordovia

The Gaol Arks stopped here; for this area at least. Huge walls of solid ferrocrete topped with haze-wire were set up behind the outer rows of prefabricated defences that had been set up, and which were used by the necron guards, along with automated turrets. Hunter-scarabs roamed outside the walls as guards, flensing variants that could strip the flesh from the bones in moments. All this and more were visible to the prisoners as they approached, but perhaps the most annoying thing was the name, in large black letters on the grey wall proclaiming the place’s name. An irony as the name of Eirin Greythorn was a bit of a legend in these parts. The famous greythorn the ranger, whose deeds were sung even in this age. Eirin Greythorn was a wildling, and had ever opposed the idea of imprisonment and enslavement, and she was best known for her attack on the gaols of the Barons and Viscounts as she declared herself opposed to all forms of tyranny. The Lady Greythorn whose arrows would leave so much death in her wake that all the steel that had been left behind would be like erect grey thorns on the ground, her namesake was always one that lingered.

The baker was annoyed that once again he had been dragged about and harassed and yet another googly eyed foreigner had rejected yet another bribe. The baker called to the jailor and tried to catch his attention. “Excuse me! I am here, and I wish to register a complaint to this department for the charge of false arrest!”

The response was immediate, the necron looking at him, and prodding him with the prongs at the end of its weapon, administering a nerve-stimulating but low powered electrical shock. “Silence prisoner!” was the only answer as the transport wended its way into the interior of the, hovering over a set of tank-traps. The interior of the facility was several large blocks of what seemed like shipping containers, with fences between them, most of the site was empty still, with few prisoners to fill it. At last the vehicle stopped, and the necrons boarded, pulling the prisoners down one by one, releasing their manacles.

“I say, it is a false charge! I demand that I be let go this instant!” The man clanged against his bonds.

The necrons ignored him, of course, and shoved him down into the courtyard, with about half a dozen others, and the prison-barge turned away up over the fence it had entered by, leaving them to their new guards, who were mostly anonymous necrons, and a few humans, elves, necrontyr and others. The man grunted as he was shoved down to the courtyard and watched the strange crowd and seemed to be annoyed. He grumbled and cursed under his breath, and tried to catch someone’s attention.

A young man dressed in a black coat and white shirt, stood before the others, “Welcome to Eirin Greythorn Jail! All of you are here for one reason alone; you are charged with capital crimes. Let me make sure that has sunk in. Anyone who attempts to escape here will be shot. Anyone who causes disorder. Will be shot. Anyone who attempts to damage jail property, or start an affray, or kill themselves, will be shot.”

“B-But if they’re killing themselves...why would being shot be a punishme-” One of the men shouted loudly.

“Flogged then shot!” the man announced, someone always asked.

“But what if they like flogging?” Another asked.

“I see you are volunteering!” he said, looking at the man who’d suggested this.

“Erk…” The man said as he then regretted he spoke up and kept quiet.

“Form an orderly queue for your prison clothes and delousing, you horrible bunch of animal-food rejects, and we’ll get to processing you.”

The prisoners lined up and seemed to tightly push someone else weaker behind them, leading to the first schlub being pushed at the Necrons. The man seemed to be less than pleased at being first.

The C’tani man wasn’t kidding, the room they were shoved through was more of a high pressure hose that would pass for a water cannon if it were a little more powerful, before they were shoved into orange jumpsuits that clung wetly and quite uncomfortably. The first man sputtered and flopped over as he then attempted to dry his orange jumpsuit by wringing it out. The baker then approached one of the men hosing another prisoner, jumping queue and whispered.

“Look, I know you are a working man just doing your job, I tell you what, I’ll give you about thirty pounds of pure gold, if you will let me walk away right now. No fuss!” He whispered shrilly.

“Here’s for your gold,” the elven man said, rolling his eyes, and turned the hose on him, “Get undressed, stupid ass.”

The hose made him flop over on his backside and he shouted in surprise and got back to his feet.

“Now see here, you! I am merely offering an… Hey! Stop that!” He said as he got hosed again. “Gragh.” He said as he complained some more under his breath and undressed.

“Go on, fuck off,” he said, “Next!”

The next man was ready for it, and he attempted to hold himself in place so as not to be washed away by the hose.

When the baker reached the next room, the elven woman behind the desk threw his jumpsuit at him, “Cover yourself and get out of here,” she said grabbing the next one off the shelf; it was very much a one size fits none affair. The baker was wearing an enormous jumpsuit and the man next to him wore something that looked like it would fit a small schoolboy.

“How am I supposed to wear this thing?” The man complained.

“Get out of here, asshole, move on. Next!”

The man tore the garment as he attempted to put it on, and his asscrack was clearly visible, there was no way to mend it with what he had. he shrugged and moved on as the baker tumbled and flopped in the mud as he attempted to lift the swathes of cloth that were his clothes.

At last they arrived at registration, where the baker found a queue awaiting him.

The baker cursed as he pulled his pants up and walked over to the line and waited as he stepped before the registrar.

“Look, I don’t know if you know who I am, I am not supposed to be here.” The baker said with a frown.

“Nor I!” Another man, a slave trader said with a furrowed brow. “It is a mistake!”

“Name?” the Necrontyr asked, without looking up.

“Andoron Morthol.” the Baker said with a frown.

“Occupation?” he asked.

“Baker.” He said with a cross expression. “And falsely accused of slavery I might add! I am no such thing. Those accusations are slander!”

“Silence, you’re actually here for murder, not slavery. Not that it matters,” he said, looking down at the holographic screen of indecipherable necrontyr text.

“And who have I murdered? None! I have killed no man.”

“Perjury also. And price-fixing. Huh. Hand out.”

“I have never perjured in my life!” He said as he carefully put his hand out, expecting them to burn it with a brand of some sort.

He held out a manacle, and bolted it down to the table, then injected his hand with a rather horrible looking and even worse feeling needle.

“ARGH! What IS this stuff?!” The baker shouted as he instinctively scrappled in attempts to remove his hand from the manacle.

“‘Bloodswarm nanoscarabs,’ I think is the butchered translation. Basically, if you run off, something really bad will happen to you. You don’t want to find out what.”

“What in the hell… you put bugs in my blood? What the… GET THEM OUT I DON’T WANT BUGS IN MY BLOOD!”

“Tough, they’re rather cute. I have some myself. Now fuck off,” he said, unlocking the manacle, pointing to the next line.

The Baker attempted to scrabble at his arms, scratching and scraping vainly as he went to the next line. He had no idea how the blood scarabs worked so all he did was scrape at it until he bled and he felt a little relief, not knowing that they were still inside.

“B-Blood scarabs… who are they joking with? Bugs in the blood..”

The next line was apparently to see the lawyers, of which there were two, harassed looking individuals in a portakabin-type affair with thick barriers across it in front of their desks, and grim looking bucket seats bolted to the doors. “Andoron Morthol?” one called, a fair haired woman who looked to be in her thirties, dressed casually in Menelmacari style. On the desk was labelled ‘Laura Thalnam, Lawyer.’

Next to Laura’s desk one of the nobles shouted angry. “I TELL YOU THAT BITCH WAS LYING!” He flailed. “BUT THAT’S WHAT YOU GET WHEN THE POLICE BELIEVE A NAYALI STRUMPET. I AM LEAVING.”

Whereupon one of the guards took the opportunity to show the man to his cell; leaving the jail was not exactly an option after all.

“ Errr…” Andoron said with confusion. “ Right, so I’m accused of murder, when I didn’t murder nobody. I’m not a damned crow or merc. I’m a baker.”

“Hello, I’m Laura and I’ll be your state appointed lawyer today, unless you wish to discharge me or represent yourself, and frankly, feel free,” she said boredly, paging over to look at the particulars of the case. “It says here you don’t serve non-humans in your bakery?” she asked.

“I do not serve non-humans, no. There’s a perfectly fine bakery out of town where they can serve their kind. I cater to higher clientele.”

“How far out of town?” she asked.

“Next town over, I don’t know why they continue to pester me, as I have not made it unclear.” He said with a raised eyebrow. “Your kind serve orcs as well?”

“Frankly, I’d prefer to have orcs as clients right now,” she said, looking up at him with ice blue eyes, “Anyways, that appears to be a one hundred and twenty kilometer walk...” she said.

“Not my problem, they should get a car.” He said with a dismissive wave. “It is just down out of town and the next town over. If they wanted to get what they needed surely they can find it. It’s not my fault the rice salesman croaked, I’m not a murderer for picking up his customers, and rejecting the ones I’d rather not work with.”

“I’m afraid that you are, or at least, the law says that you are. Denying anyone service on grounds of species is a minor issue, not seriously punished or really considered a misdemeanor, but denying required essential supplies under prejudice makes you liable for the resulting consequences. Should have been a jeweller.”

“I’m not to blame for a damned demon spawn’s death. This is unfair, and you should be thanking me. I am trying to keep my sales reserved to people who are better kept in town. If they have a problem they should live somewhere else.” The man said with a frown. “But this is no way comparable to the murder by a crow! I’m no assassin, I’m a baker, and I can’t be forced to sell to anyone I don’t want my business to be catering to.”

“Yes you can, look at the prison. Do you want me to advise you how to get out of this with your skin intact or do you just want to bleat about how unfair it is?” she said with a harried, exasperated look as he protested.

“Well tell me then, because I would rather have my skin intact, and with no blood bugs.”

“The first thing is, avoid a jury trial. You might think you’ll be able to win it that way, but that’s going to include about sixty percent non-humans, if it’s typical, and the racism will make most everyone mash the guilty button...” she said.

“And then?” The baker asked.

“Plead guilty, claim social pressure made you do it, or something. Do you feel pressured to hate non-humans?” she asked.

“Well…I could...but I don’t know it doesn’t sound like an entirely brilliant idea if you say my mere appearance screams racist.” He said pondering as he shrugged. “I could say that though, should I make sure to seem like I am a dogged victim of the system?”

“Ideally you want to look kind of shocked by it all, try being stupified.”

“S’not too hard to do, but I think that it’d be something that is a bit… well. I’ll do what you suggest, how much time am I looking at?” He asked.

“Before your trial?” she asked.

“And after.”

“Well, you’re not eligible for a slaver tribunal, so they’ll probably bring actual investigators into your affairs, and then assemble a more substantive case, we’ll get to review that. Maybe as much as six months or even longer, then probably a couple of years, there’s a lot like you to work through. Then you’ll get to go to a C’tani court, and after that, if you’re found guilty, it’ll probably be a few months at most.”

“Jolly good then, that’s better than I expected. I thought I would be made to rot.” The baker said with a sigh. “Not that I am actually guilty of murder, I feel this is a farce. I can’t help for everyone to get what they need. I’m not a socialist.”

“I mean, on the bright side, we can probably find some argument to appeal on, and get you a couple extra months...” she said, paging through his case notes so far.

“How is that good news for ME?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. “That’s extra months in jail innit?”

“Well yes, but most people want the extra time when they’re sentenced to death.”

“Wha-wait… I thought we were talking about me getting only a few months in jail and then it would be time served. I’d be a free man?” The man seemed to be confused. “This is not what you said, and it’s disproportionate to kill a man for not selling to customers he doesn’t serve!”

She burst out laughing, leaning back, behind the partition into the next cubicle, “Paul, listen to this guy! I say a few months after the trial, he thinks I mean a few months in prison...” the next lawyer over began to laugh too, and she came back to the desk, “That’s... great. Well yes, you might not think you were doing much wrong, but when you’re hoarding all the bread, then people tend to take a dim view of that. You’d frankly be better off if you’d killed someone in a bar-fight or an altercation over drugs. At least that doesn’t require sustained malice...”

“But that is my property, and I had my every right to decide what I do with it. If I wanted to just throw it away, I legally had that right, but I didn’t. You can’t be serious and say that I have committed murder by controlling my own property, and who I sell it to.”

“Well, the report here has it that you’ve been doing this bullshit since your father’s day at least, and mysteriously no one else has ever set up a shop that lasted around here... so I have little doubt that they’ll take the claims you’ve been driving off rivals to keep your monopoly seriously.”

“Even if I was, and I am not saying I was, I would not be committing murder by engaging in wiser business practice than my competitors. The rice man decided to work and trade with non-humans and he got his head cut clean off, he did. You bet it was the non-humans that did him in. Never got any murders happening on my shop, nor have I been working with unsavory persons. That’s why I do well, and the others predictably do not.”

She gave him a steady look, “Do. not. try. that. in. court.”

“What, claim that the non-humans murdered the rice salesman? That’s pretty much common knowledge. Only an animal would have done something so brutal to that man, and I was not responsible for it. He was the one stupid enough to serve non-humans which would later kill him.”

“And who do you think will be judging you?” she asked.

“A reasoned judge. Do you think for a moment I am being facetious?” The man asked as he shook his head. “I did not kill that man, and nor have I killed anyone other than those you claim I was forced to sell my good to which I maintain is not my responsibility.”

“It makes you look like a lying sack of shit. Anyway, of the three judges you can generally expect two non-humans. So yeah. That won’t fly. Anyways, plenty more to do. I’ll let you know when we get more notes on your case. NEXT!” she said, pushing a button on her desk.

The baker looked outraged but he realized he couldn’t use reason with these people, they ran a socialist kangaroo court geared only to the non-human favor. He suspected this would be the case when the non-humans had penetrated the homelands. There was little redemption for Altea now, and only he could expect that Altea would burn in fire once the Gods reject it once more.

“I think I’ll play with the next one,” the lawyer called over to the gent in the other cubicle, she had little hope for getting any of these people off; the one who had just left managed to be simultaneously anti-capitalist, speciesist, racist and a smug cunt about it all.

The man who approached next was a pimp who had been selling women out of the docks, and he had perhaps, or what he claimed ‘accidentally’ killed one of the working women in an altercation with the guard. He insisted that they were the ones responsible and not he. He set his hand on the table, and tried to get the lawyer’s attentions.

“Welcome to Lawyers R Us, providing you with discount legal aid since three forty three, what legal service do you require,” she said, smiling sweetly.

“ A Funny gal, I like that spunk, I do declare that at least they’ve set me up with a beautiful one. So tell me, Laura is it? How am I able to discuss with these… peculiar alien folk who consider me to be worthy of, shall I say butchery? I don’t think they stab executions, though I’ve heard of odder ways to go.”

“If you’re very lucky they do beheadings...” she said, “What’re you charged with, they should have told you outside...”

“I killed a bitch. It might have been on purpose, or an accident I cannot confirm or deny these charges, but I maintain that that fat headed bastard did it, and not me. Yes, and he had one arm. Yes, a fat headed one armed bastard. I can even find you a one armed fat headed bastard. Probably, anyone have a sword?”

“I see you don’t quite grasp the severity of your situation here. Been in trouble with the law before have you?” she asked.

“You could say that, and not nearly the worst situation I’ve been in. I can expect that you’d be pretty decent executioners. Probably. That’s discounting the idea that you guys won’t employ a blind monkey to do your beheadings, in which case, I cannot expect much better. Does it matter though? I’m going to die anyway. I’ve only gotten this far because your people love procedures. It’s like Forntians with an odd obsession for less rules.”

“What precisely is it you were doing when you might have killed Schrodinger’s bitch, then?” she asked.

“I was drinking booze and I was probably having sex with one of my other bitches. She can perhaps be my alibi, but that would be inconsequential, because I have an eyewitness who proves to be problematic. He maintains that I did the thing, and not the fat headed one armed bastard me and my bitches saw, and which I say is the god’s honest truth.”

The Docks of the West Briar-run Lake

West Briar-run lake was a rather lovely tourist attraction, if of course one was smart enough to stay on the beautiful glittering side of the white sanded shore. If one went closer to the old docks, however, one could see the old eyesore of sprawl from the city, which only served to make it look like more of a dump than a shipping yard. The Harbor was only well kept on the Northern and Western shore. The Eastern side was notorious for its numerous murders, and the South side was also filled with the struggling poor and working class. The old houses made of rotting wood were often moldy with the putrid smell of mildew and there were of course the platforms that were eroding and some had even fallen through. Some of them looked like they had been ham handedly repaired with driftwood and rusted scrap metal. The people were of course equally decrepit and did seemed to be wearing tattered burlap clothing, if at all, and some with fairly decent clothing had moth eaten fabric that had been old. Their faces seemed perpetually covered in caked mud. The swill of course brought forth the seediest elements of the worst among them. Desperation and the stink of failure was a common perfume among them.

The trio of C’tani that approached were all men, clad in a variety of clothes, dark and light alike, looking as much like lost tourists as possible, or at least, as much like a stereotype, wearing swords and pistols ostentatiously, they gave the impression of armed men, certainly, but not policemen, which was rather the point.

Than walked at the head of the group, his dress was of silver thread and comfortable looking, and he walked without looking around him, as though a young man with his retinue. What he did however, was carry his handkerchief over his nose, though he knew it would do nothing to block out the smell. The scent of warm meat was somewhere on the breeze, like stale lunchboxes left too long in the sun, the wind off the abattoir conveying the malodorous scent down onto the docks like a curse, the heady whiff of urine somehow competing with the brine of the side road, heady smells of fish markets, unfrozen and stored for processing as low quality meats gave the place an odd reek, and the discharge of plastics and other light industry ran an acrid tang through the area that bespoke soaking acid baths and resinous byproducts. The mouldering of old fabrics oozed from the door of a clothes shop, many of the shops built or altered to have doors flush with the road to make the most of limited floorplans and avoid the scent of the vagrants that would use such places to sleep. He stepped aside from a smear of vomit, some time past he judged, in its creation, the fact that it was not directly near a drinking establishment suggesting it just might have a piteous cause in sickness rather than loathsome intoxication.

With him was another man, broader across the shoulder and carrying a cane, on which gloved hands rested, though he did not use it, possibly for fear of the uncollected turds that Than sincerely hoped were produced by the livestock that swarmed Altea in place of more modern vehicles that could be easily afforded were the people less impoverished.

The other companion was a tiefling, though his demonic appearance was much more exaggerated than the natives, high, overwrought horns giving him the appearance almost of a qunari, tanned from deep red to dark black, and with a set of sideburns that set off a suspicious glance that gave no reassurance to his visage; perhaps a bodyguard, certainly a hand rested on his sword.

The tiefling was given a lot of side glances, but nothing that lingered as it seemed there were a few among their number which seemed to have no mix of something. One group of women were attending to the passerbys attempting to catch the attention of the potentially rich ‘patrons’. A woman slapped a man who had perhaps grabbed her butt unsolicited.

“EY! No hands on the merchandise. You want it you buy it, you don’t get no more than that. I’m a wench but even I got standards!” She shouted as she grabbed a bucket of water and threw it at the man as he skittered away. “Wotcher looking at, there? Want to have a good time?” She asked the Tiefling curiously. “Oh, and a handsome one there, with you. How about it gents? It’s a good ride!”

“You reminded me of something long passed,” he said, “for a moment, no more...” he said, aiming a half-hearted claw-laden swipe at the fellow who was running.

“Indeed, that is rather what we’re looking for...” Than said, as his companion indulged the urge to punish. “Though I do hope we can find somewhere a little more comfortable,” he said.

“Course we can, I gots me a boudoir a bit around here if yer interested. Got many more where it comes from as long as ye don’t piss off Athis.”

“Ah good, I was hoping you’d say that. I did hope we’d be too much for one...” he said.

“Now, now, we have all the time you’re willing to spend, and since time is money we expect to give you something more worth it than not!” The woman said with a slight tease. “Now come along and I can take you to someplace more private, and beautiful. Whaddya say, handsome?”

“Certainly,” he said, holding out an arm for her.

She led him to a less ramshackle home which seemed to be one of the few in the area that had an actual foundation, and it also seemed to possess a functioning electrical and plumbing along with a lavishly furnished garden patio. It was odd however that the woman’s clothing did not seem to fit with the general housing complex, which made her look odd and out of place.

“Nice,” Than lied, following along with a smile, aiming to look lascivious and not quite managing, scent did not quite disguise something desperate about his companion that stimulated instincts quite distinct from attraction. As the woman led them into the home, there was a distinctly perfumed smell with which it was an attempt to overpower the putrid odor outside. It worked a little bit as it seemed to be air conditioned and there was at least a modest attempt to curb the windows being opened and the the doors as well from being opened. As she led him in, there seemed to be a group of women who seemed to curiously observe the pair. There were women of various races and species, and of course some men. They were all oddly young however, with very few of them who had reached the age of determination, and if they did, they were still of a youthful countenance.

“So, you brought a pair in, good job, Levanna, what can I get for you today?” One of the older men asked, as he seemed to be the local pimp.

“Trio, man, can you not count?” the Tiefling said, with a tone of unreasonable annoyance, as though merely being here annoyed him.

“Well, ser please choose whomever appeals to your tastes the most. I am of course surprised that you being a man of means would only want one woman each, but whatever suits your tastes!” He said with a smirk and a nod of his head. “Now you know the rules ladies, please show our friends a good time.”

“My good man,” Than said, “I like to at least hear the rates before I begin!” he protested.

“This depends on your choice, as we do know my ladies are perhaps the finest maidens in this sludgepot of a city. Now we even actually manage to find virgins for those who desire a tight tumble, but of course, they’re more pricy than your average barmaiden and wench.” The pimp said with a smirk. “So we have Lyriel here who is a beautiful woman, a Tor with those beautiful blue drooping eyes. She’s a virgin beauty and doesn’t mind a lot of punishment.” he said with a gesture. “A tumble with Lyriel can depend on what you intend to do time-wise. Let’s say about a half a grand per hour? Of course there’s also Anariya who is a beautiful Aurothi with a buxom body and experience in the best kind of domination that most around here could vouch on. She’s half that price, and Daniria is a new girl who is always willing to play teacher and naughty student. Let’s say about a three hundred thirty four?”

“That would be about three hundred thirty four currents, yes?” he asked, sounding vaguely disaffected.

“Eleven hundred eighty four an hour for all three of these fine women per hour, including all toys and all extra minutae to make the experience as enjoyable as possible. Now, what do you say, then?”

“I say one thousand, and the understanding that you’ll do well to have our business,” the other human said, “We’re tourists, not morons.”

“Very well, you have a deal, One thousand and not a pence more.” The man said with a smirk. “That’s a good deal then!”

He took a small purse of monies from his belt and held them out, “There you go...” he said. Perhaps worryingly these were silver coins, with an Altean lion and an elven woman’s head on the back, stamped in denominations of fifty and enchanted to flash just so in the light.

“And of course, we can’t leave Levanna out...” Than said.

“What is this nonsense. I didn’t get for offering silve- what are those? Are those actual coins?” The man looked confused and examined the coins blankly for a moment and looked as if he was unsure whether or not it was valuable foreign currency because they said they were tourists, so perhaps they were foreign coins. As he examined them they certainly looked foreign, as they had a foreign monarch on them.

“Ain’t that an elven lass? Looks like a ‘S-ee-ree-thee-ul nahs fehanur?” The man said as he struggled to read the name, not quite as literate as he professed. “Good enough.”

“Good man, now what for Levanna’s company as well?” Than’s human companion asked.

“A hundred thirty an hour. She’s a cheap wench.” The man said dismissively, “But since she brought you here, we can do some ‘gratis’, and I’ll give ya her for free for the time you take with the other ladies.”

The tiefling growled, ever so quietly, and Than nodded, “Excellent,” he said, “Levanna dear, if you would...” he said, waving toward the door.

“This way, Sers. I’ll happily treat you to the best time we can give you.” She said as she led them into a comfortable room with clean sheets and a soft bed for use by the prostitutes and naturally there were also sex toys and other kinky costumes with all sorts of interesting objects that seemed to be unused and clean. The prostitute began to kiss Than, and massaged him as she attempted to make him comfortable.

He sat, with the others, and pulled her onto his lap, letting her kiss him, but seeming disinclined to kiss her, unusually, “So, Levanna, what’s available then?” he asked, waving Lyriel down next to him.

“Anything you want, the customer’s desires are always the best. So if you want me to slather myself up in something or you want to beat me raw and red, I’m willing to do it, and make you happy.” Levanna said as the others were given warm massages by the women, with Lyriel still attempting to learn how to do things right, as she seemed not all too sure how to do it for the first time. She took notes from the more experienced women, and felt more comfortable following their lead.

“Do people often want to beat you?” Than asked, attempting to sound shocked, not quite succeeding.

“ ‘course they do. If they wanted a good girl, they would stay with their wifes. They seek out people like me to do things their wives won’t do.”

“May I see?” he asked, seemingly intrigued.

“Of course, I’m always willing to show whatever my master wishes.” She said as she removed her clothes and kissed the C’tani gleefully.

He still held back a little, “Not on the lips,” he said, which was an unusual role reversal of the cliche, he reflected.

“Yes, my Master.” The woman said as she began to massage him and attempted to unbutton his long coat. She was not sure if he was actually up to having his pleasures met, and seemed to wonder why. “Are you okay?” She asked as she was already undressed along with her comrades. They were beautiful women, and seemed to be well formed in their nudity and comfortable with it.

“Perhaps not,” he said, and gave the impression of nerves, “Perhaps I would like to ask a few questions first...” he began.

“Tell me what you want me to ask, perhaps let’s make it a game so you feel less nervous. We play two lies one truth. You ask three questions: One answer will be the truth, and then two are lies. You get to learn more and have fun while we do so.”

Than frowned, “How much of what you’re paid do you actually get?” he asked.

“All of it! It goes into stuff we already paid for.” the coquettish girl said with a smile as she leaned in and made herself more comfortable. “What’s yer second question?”

“Where are you from?” he asked.

“The Imperial City of Anion. Glittering gem of all the ‘provinces’.” The girl said as one of the others giggled. She clearly knew it was nothing like the legends made of it, thus knew that this was a lie.

“And how well are you treated here?” he asked, it was a poor question he knew.

“Some patrons treat me like a Princess, some treat me like a beast, but that’s okay, because it’s how they are. If you ask me how the boss treats me, it depends on his mood.”

“The last one is the truth,” he said.

“Clever man, and now it’s my turn. Where were you born?” She asked with piqued interest as his accent was rustic and attractive, and she had no idea where he had gotten it from. It was almost like hearing a Northman speak with a brogue that was civilized. That would be impossible, so he was clearly foreign.

“I was born in the Achilus Provincial Hospital, on the planet of Karlack, in the Ctan Empire...” he said. “Next!”

“What is your favorite movie?” She asked with a smile as she always wondered what foreign films were like, and naturally she had no idea what they called them out there.

“I have never seen a movie,” he said.

“What’s something that you feel is more worthwhile than anything in the world.”

“I should think it would be satisfaction...” he said, not really an answer.

“Clearly the first one is true. The C’tan ‘ey, s’far away. Really far. I’m surprised you’ve come here for tourism. It’s more common for people to enjoy the glittering city and the vast countryside, and not this shithole.” She said unapologetically.

“Well I’m sure this place has something to recommend it; besides which it’s cheap.”

“Fair enough, it’s your turn, now.” She asked as she held him closer. “Ask me anything, and I’ll answer.”

“What made you decide to work here?” he asked.



“I wanted to be a showgirl, and to be famous. I wanted to be in movies, and the porno women were way hotter than I was, so I got turned down.” She said with a smirk. “But that’s just one reason.”

“Was your previous answer truthful?” he asked, with a teasing tone.

“Hoh, that’s a good question, ‘course it’s true!” She said with a chuckle, as she saw he was getting more clever by the minute. She couldn’t say she disliked it. “But that’s your second question? Perfect waste of a question. But it’s your turn again. Last one.” She whispered. “Then it’s my turn.”

“Was your first answer untruthful?” he asked.

“Nope not true at all! You’ve cheated you have, but it’s my turn now! Have you decided which statement was true?”

“The last one,” he said, “the third one cannot be a lie unless the first is true, which would mean you gave two correct answers, while the second one likewise can’t be correct as that would imply two correct answers.”

“Bingo.” She said with a smirk. “But my turn’s come up. So, do you have a family?” She asked. “Wife, kids, picket fenced home with the fixin’s?” She asked curiously.

“Assuredly, more than you can count.” He said.

“Hm, let’s see… have you ever learned from the fancy schools they have in the far lands?” She asked as she carefully worded her statement. She didn’t want him to think that she was questioning his social class. That could possibly set him off and she did like him as he was so far.

“Of course,” he said, “everyone does where I come from...” he said, “even the beastlings!”

“Let’s see… my last one is.. are you from a noble family?” She asked as she examined his clothing and found it to be quite lavish.

“My family is not at all noble,” he said, “Unless it is... hard to give a yes/no answer...” he said, “It is definitely a noble family in the sense you mean it, yes...” he said.

“Hmmm your last one is probably right because you put a lot of thought in it. Plus you don’t look like the kind who makes himself a wife in every town. I know those types. I used to have ‘em come to me all the time.” She said as she prompted to see if it was the truth as she looked at him with curiosity as there was a loud thump from the hall. One of the girl looked out for a moment, curiosity overcoming her. She seemed to be a little worried, but said nothing as she shut the door again. The tiefling was on his feet rather quickly, hand on the hilt of his sword, pistol ignored.

“What was that?” he demanded.

“Customer may have taken things a bit far, it’s alright. No one’s dead.” She said as if it were a common occurrence. She didn’t seem to pay it much mind. “It’s not a big deal.” She said with a wave of her hand.

He stepped toward the door as if on impulse, reaching to open it.

The woman did not stop him from opening the door, and as it opened there was a bruised and battered young man, and there were marks and bruises around his neck, and his eyes were streaming with tears. They were red around his sclera, but his iris was simply black. It was like staring into a blank tunnel of darkness. His hair was chocolate brown and he seemed to have a goatee and a pair of horns on his head. He was panting but didn’t say a word. He climbed to his feet completely naked and tried to get a balance on his feet.

The girl slightly attempted to tug the customer back in her room. “Are you alright?” She asked the customer as she seemed to be confused by his unease. The customer that was leaving seemed to be nonplussed by the damage caused to the young tiefling boy. He merely was disappointed by the fact that he was being sent out for a time out.

The C’tani tiefling followed, leaving the room without a word, and Than sighed, saying something in necrontyr, and then looking at Levanna, “We’ll be back... probably...” he said.

“Uh oh… so you won’t be… That was… short?” She said taken aback by the small amount of time he spent with her, but was worried that she was not going to get any of them paid. She also seemed to distinctively think she had offended him, and made him leave.

“You there!” the first of them said, as he followed the customer, the tone he used quite at odds with his appearance, not in that it was forceful, but that it was one habitually accustomed to obedience. “Halt!”

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” The customer asked as he looked over at the C’tani with confusion. “What can I do for you?”

“You can account for what you did to that boy in there,” he said, “and be quick about it!” he added, the last few words almost running into one as the other two C’tani followed him out.

“Hm? What about it?” The man asked. “I paid for my time with him.” The man said with confusion. “I can do what I wish, but… I think perhaps I was a little overdone this time. Well, he’s alive. Good enough, right? If he DID die, I’ve enough money to pay the blood price.”

“That is your account, is it?” he asked, not surprised, with the tone of a man whose expectations were so low that they could not be failed.

“I’ll be back later. I need to wait, or he might die.” The man said surprised that this stranger seemed to question his intentions.

The C’tani tiefling turned his back on the customer, and then walked back to the house, pausing at the last moment, “Later tonight?” he asked, half turning to look at the man, with a look as if torn on some issue of what to do. The matter of justice was clear, but arresting the fellow now would mean that their cover would be gone, and then the other matter would not be resolved.

“I paid for my time, I will get it back.” He said menacing the young tiefling for a moment before stepping outside and tightening his tie. He headed out as the young man was helped to his feet by one of the older women and she examined his bruises which were deep black and blue. He barely survived, and it showed as he was still terribly disoriented. The other women seemed to be confused as Than’s partner returned.

Than and the other two returned, talking animatedly in their own language for a moment, before Than looked at Levanna, “You got it wrong, by the by,” he said.

“I did?” She asked delighted that the attention came back. “Which one was the truth?” The girl asked curiously as a man approached the tiefling boy and angrily censured him outside the area. The words he spoke was clearly in another language, but what was said was unclear.

“Bring the lad in here!” the other human C’tani shouted, apparently annoyed at the commotion, “If you’re not going to help him then let me.”

The tiefling looked confused at the sound of the voices, still garbled as the other prostitute led him to the C’tani man. She whispered to the man with a sense of disquiet.

“He’s not strong enough for anything at the moment, honored customer. I apologize for the inconvenience. I understand he is appealing, but he needs res-” She started as she looked over at the man who had yelled at the boy and stopped talking.

“It’s alright.” The tiefling boy said with a strain and as if it took effort to speak. “I’ll go. You, go. Don’t worry.” He said as the woman felt him let go of her and he opened the door where the C’tani were and tried to make out which way they were and he dry heaved for a moment as he approached the bed.

“I am here to please my customers. How can I?” He lie on the bed for a moment and his eyes began to sting again as tears streamed down his face. “How can I help you this evening?”

“Relax, you aren’t here to serve,” he said, picking up the cane, and laying it down beside him, “Close your eyes, and listen only to my voice.”

He shut his eyes and was still heaving as he carefully attempted to breathe, and it was difficult for him to speak. One of the women seemed to look at the boy with pity and covered him with a blanket and then gave him a brush of his hair with her hand.

“Poor lad… That’s the third time this week.” She said as she attempted to look around the room for an icebox and put it upon his neck which made him quickly recoil from the pain.

“A moment, please,” the C’tani said, holding his hand lightly against the youth’s neck, hand positioned facing away from him, fingers down, two fingers touching, as if taking his pulse, the gesture actually evolved to make it easy to tell that he wasn’t choking the child from a distance, rather than for any benefit to the patient.

The young boy didn’t seem to struggle, he was too exhausted and he didn’t seem to know what the C’tani was doing. He just noticed that his eyes were shut and he took effort to do nothing but listen to the soothing voice as it spoke to him.

“Is he going to…” One of the girls asked as she seemed to not be sure that this would be something the boy would be able to walk away from. “Is he going to make it?”

The C’tani man sitting on the bed held his hand over the boy’s head, “Hail to you Shu, lord of the Air, who is First Born among the Nine Holy Ones, it is I, Auset, your Daughter's Daughter who calls to you. Enter into this man and give to him the Breath of Life. See Injustice, Oh Netjer and make haste to mend what is broken and to restore Ma’at, Most Excellent aid to those in Need, tarry not in this task lest you be found wanting in the sight of Auset and of Amun!” he said, and it seemed as if a clean fresh breeze blew from his mouth as he exhaled, bruising flowing back. Healing spells were sometimes made to sound simple, but to C’tani at least, there was no shortage of complexities in such things, from staunching bleeding to mending bones, in this case, the spell was focussed as much as restoring the damage done to the boy’s lungs as anything else, but also healing the carotid arteries, making whole what had been compressed and damaged. The theurgistic healing of the Aligrethans was distinct from many others, in that it as much took pains to command the spirits and gods called upon as it did to flatter and request of them, going so far in some cases, as this, to include consequences for failure. The boy’s bruises and external bleeding wounds were beginning to disappear as he instinctively reached for his neck and touched it with his fingertip, expecting that he’d feel pain, but to his surprise he was not pained by the injuries.

“I… thank you. For a second there I thought you were going to kill me. It’s not often someone invokes a god to help me, only ‘Gods curse you and your ancestors, rot in the gutter, beast of beasts. Son of a Demon, repent your ways’ etcetera.” The boy said weakly. “I owe you and your God a thanks. Are you… some sort of templar?” The boy asked as he seemed to be calming down. His breath calming down.

“That I am,” he said, “Pleased to meet you. The name’s Sherin Ali of House Atun.”

“The name’s Finn. I’ve not a house name, but I work for the Pleasure Quarters and also the Sharpbolt Coterie. Tried to get out, but have been working off the debt here. Apparently I’ve been biting off more than I can chew. Maybe I should just go back to the coterie.” He said with a sigh. “I can’t handle this. Next time I might not be so lucky to meet a handsome templar to save my life.” Finn said with a wink.

“You owe them money here?” he asked.

“My sister got the coughing sickness. I tried to work off a massive hospital bill, and I borrowed some money for the coterie with a lot of interest attached. I didn’t care at the time, I was desperate and wanted to save my sister’s life. Now all I have is her memory because she didn’t manage to make it. Died of malnutrition connected with her sickness, and I got left with a massive debt I can hardly expect to pay off. So now I work here, it’s not like anyone else offers me jobs out of here, and the coterie trusted my sword-arm… but I’m not… I don’t like working for them very much.”

“And so here you are? Who are this Coterie?” he asked.

“They’re a… less than legal mercenary corporation… which may be connected with mithril smuggling, but I don’t ask questions. They gave me money, and at the time that was all that mattered. Surely I thought, ‘all that mattered was that they tried to help me save Elise, and that’s all that came to mind… I at least owe them for four more months with her. It was just...I wished things had gone differently.” Finn said with a frown. “But… I imagine you’re used to Altean pity parties, am I right? You don’t look like your typical tourists.”

“How much is that?” he asked.

“Let’s see, that was ten thousand dollars for seven months. Then we have a five hundred percent interest on the loan… Well, I can’t give you a full estimate, but it’s probably more than I make in a year. Even if I killed fifty men per day.”

“Yeah, I’m not paying that,” he said.

“Oh my, I wasn’t expecting you do, Ser. I’m actually surprised you asked. This is not something people commonly give much thought when they’re speaking to a prostitute.” He said quite openly. “Not that I expect you in any way to consider what I do as anything more than what I can give, but perhaps I’d just be better off if I rejoined the coterie. This isn’t giving much of a dent on my financial troubles.”

“Oh I don’t think so, mithril smuggling is not a business you want to be involved in,” he said, “Have you considered just leaving? It seems you have no family here...”

“I’ve no reason to stay, but I can’t afford to leave. I’ve been trying for quite some time to just pack off and leave, but again, I have debts that made your toes curl, and I’ve no foreign contacts or connections, no marketable skills except for things most likely illegal in your lands or anywhere. I’m good at making people’s toes curl in a different way, but most would say ‘go to school, you are too young’, and I’ve another skill which is to smash and break things that would probably get me executed in the outlands. Luckily being a part of the coterie has at least afforded me enough that people look the other way. For now at least, eventually the C’tan will probably discover us, and I’ll be among the dead, but that’s just how the world works.” One of the women, Levanna gasped as she knew the men were from the C’tan.

“We try to avoid killing anyone except the leaders of criminal organizations,” Than said, “It’s just often the footsoldiers try and fight, or do something foolish. Not that I reccommend going back.”

“So you are C’tani. I can kind of tell by your accents. You sound similar to a C’tani I heard once before. I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this. It feels like being with a priest in a confessional. Ack, I am so screwed either way, but I don’t know… somehow you seem trustworthy.”

Sherin nodded, “I have that effect on people,” he said, “Well you have some foreign contacts now, Finn.”

Finn laughed and looked at Sherin with a smirk. “Somehow I don’t think they have many temple prostitutes where you’re from. Mind, if they did, I don’t know if they’d employ a demon’s child. Wouldn’t that give them pause? I’m sure your friend here,” He gestured to the other tiefling chap. “Has had better opportunities than I, but I’m not sure what job references he can give me.”

“Yes, temple prostitutes exist, you aren’t nearly old enough to be one, and no, we are not bothered either by demons or by demons’ children,” he said, “And you wouldn’t really need any job references as a minor.”

“I’d need it to work off my debt, what would I do otherwise. The Coterie doesn’t just say, ‘ah, all that money we gave you is gone, now how’s about a chance for you to fly away with naught a penny to be paid back to us.’ They’d kill me. I mean, well, they’d try. I’m not one easily killed.”

“And they’d have a challenge finding you, it’s rather less likely than your coming to a bad end here... besides, they’d have to fight...”

“Maybe, it sounds like a good deal, but what will I do to get there. I don’t imagine they have free flights to C’tan, sign your soul here. I mean, well… not that I’d be all that hard pressed to do such a thing at any rate. If anyone could find me a way out of here, I’d be more than grateful to give them just about anything… well… short of my life.”

“We can arrange such a flight...” Than said, “it is one of the perks of having a huge occupation force. You probably won’t get a meal on the flight.”

“I’m not expecting one! All the better,” Finn said with a chuckle as he looked over his shoulder and saw at the door Ellis was waving him over. “Argh… duty calls?” he wasn’t sure what Ellis wanted but it seemed serious. “I still owe you and your God something, don’t leave before I can think of something. I’m sure we could work something out.”

“Very well...” Sherin said, standing, taking his cane, looking to the other tiefling. “Mind if we tag along for a moment?”

“Can’t see why that would be a problem. Come along then, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.” He said with a crack of his shoulders as he got up and he headed toward the western wing of the house and he was being led by an older looking man.

“Excuse me, sers. This area is employees only, if there is anything I can help you with, I’m more than willing to provide. For the meantime, Finn shall be occupied.” Ellis said as he looked at Than and Sherin and their accompanying tiefling with a bit of resigned exhaustion. “And no, it’s not negotiable.”

“If you could be so good as to get the manager of this fine establishment,” Than said, his tone dissembling, privileged and entitled, “I should like to speak to him at once. Be so good as to fetch him, man.”

[The Ctan]

“Yes, Ser. I shall summon him right away. Just a moment while I call my supervisor.” Ellis said as he

dialed his phone and began to pace in the hallway waiting, and he was distracted. There was a crossway in

the area, and there was a uniform area which seemed to be similar in each of the halls. The floor was made of smooth stone that was polished, and the walls were smooth and made of wood. The windows were high and there were draping white curtains that were opaque. Once closed the area would be completely dark. There were also only small hanging lamps which seemed to be made to look like decorative lanterns. These were of course not as ornate as the hanging paintings which were deliberately having depicted sensual scenes from old Altean tales. One of them was “Aeri and Anders.” and the lovers were intertwined by a grassy knoll upon a smooth exotic Palomecian Blanket.

Sherin paced quietly, nudging one of the paintings as if it were misaligned for a moment experimentally.

The painting being moved seemed to unlock something down the hallway, but what it was, seemed to be unclear. There was a distinctive click.

He hefted the rod in one hand, then two, speaking a syllable of some strange tongue, “Gat!” Almost immediately Than’s hand flew to his belt, snatching the pistol there from its holster, while their other companion drew his sword on instinctive response to the warning.

The prostitute seemed to look over at the pair and put his hands up and seemed to cover his head with his hands as he got down, “I’m not going to resist just don’t shoot me!” The prostitute said as he attempted to get down, but the unlocked door ahead seemed to be having a pair of men filtering around the corner.

“What are you all doing! Stop messing with things in the area, wait holy crap you’re armed. Lower your weapon please!” The guard said half heartedly mumbling “they don’t pay me enough for this.”

“Get into cover,” Than said, and the tiefling carefully opened the door the man had barred him from, as the other two entered behind him, Sherin covering the first man. “Do not move, either of you,” he shouted to the guards, taking aim at them.

“Likewise, what are you, cops or summat?” The tall thin guard asked as the short fat guard looked at the pair.

“Don’t look much like cops, I say. Not even wearing a uniform. Don’t be daft.”

“Not all cops wear uniforms you dolt. Some of them wear a badge on their inside jacket.”

“Wouldn’t that be a uniform, I verily think that they would have a uniform then if that is the case. Do you have a jacket badge?” The thin guard asked as he looked over at the pair.

Than ignored the question, stepping into the next room with his companions, keeping the guards covered..

Inside the room there seemed to be several pathways open, but strangely enough the guards were just continuing to argue with one another about what does or does not constitute a uniform, and they didn’t realize that the trio had already left. As they seemed to be in what looked like a promenade hall, it was oddly quiet except for the rustling of the wind from a side window. The doors in the promenade hall were all leading into a ballroom that may at one point have been occupied, but there was also another hallway which seemed to lead into a winding passage, and a corkscrew staircase leading up and down a floor.

They paused briefly, the other two switching to firearms too, the same model, broad barreled short weapons, as they paused. “What was it?” Than asked.

“The room, was set up as a trap,” Sherin said, “Some kind of mechanism I triggered called the guards in.”

“Right... You two!” The tiefling shouted in accented common, “come in here, right away!”

Than touched a point behind his ear and began to speak, calling for reinforcements.

The two guards realized they had gone ahead finally and gave chase and there was a fire alarm which went off, and the ceiling sprinklers went off, making a few women and customers shouting in surprise. They went past Ellis when the guards then gave chase. “Halt! You’re not really supposed to be back there!”

“Wait, how did they get past us in the first place. Are they ninjas or somethin’? ”

Sherin shot them both. The weapons were much the same as had been used by the Orderites, though smaller, low velocity nerve-shock rounds.

The guards were felled and cursed angrily as they were not actually expecting to be shot, but then again, they weren’t expecting the ninjas either. This would be one day to write home about. The sprinklers and fire alarms were still going off, and it seemed to be unclear where there was a fire if there even was one at all. Ellis still rushed away from the scene evacuating the area. The prostitutes, believing there was a fire also began to vacate the premises in a less than orderly fashion which included quite a bit of screaming and confusion.

The C’tani were still in the hall, which was now moist and slippery as the water from the sprinklers were now raining on the smoothly polished stone floors. The way ahead was unclear.

The mission appeared to be so far from what was actually happening now that it could as easily have been on another planet. They lowered their weapons, looking at one another for a moment.

“The murderer,” the Tiefling said, attempting to reckon which way Finn might have gone, and ending up with no sign of him to work from, picking at random.

“Fire on every customer or guard you see...” Sherin said.

The guards that seemed to be heading back into the building were headed toward the western passage. There was an identifiable shout as the group could see about six guards attempting to head back away from them, and they seemed to be uninterested in them, oddly enough.

They were about to get interested, as the C’tani opened fire, the Tiefling particularly without much regard for aiming, had switched the gravbolter pistol into a fully automatic mode and sprayed down the corridor as the other two took more measured shots. The guards seemed to be shocked and then fired in their direction after perceiving a threat from that direction. There was a strange roar from down the hall, and it didn’t seem to be identifiable. The roar was followed by the sounds of bones cracking and flesh being incinerated.

“What in the name of Wesir was that?” Sherin asked.

“Underground fighting ring...” the tiefling suggested, grunting slightly as the armoured version of the Menelmacari-style clothing took a glancing hit and he gave up on morale efforts and aimed more closely to pick targets. As he did the targets he aimed at fell quite rapidly as they connected. The guards were quite easily wiped out, given that they were not professionals. The other way around lead to the basement. There was of course continued cheering as they got closer. It would seem the tiefling’s guess was spot on, but something was wrong. There was screaming from the basement as well that didn’t seem to fit.

“Beastling baiting,” he said. “Switch to live ammunition.” They paused only briefly to check the ammunition types as they reloaded, this time, something rather more formidable.

“The trap was probably to stop the poor bastards escaping...” Than said as they moved on.

The group of people filtering out of the basement began to trip over themselves and they seemed to notice that the C’tani were armed.

“Oh Thank the Gods, you need to get down there quick! There are monsters down there attacking, you’ve for to stop them!” the man said with a twitch of his black mustache.

They paused, just for a moment, each wondering if the previous order about shooting all the customers should stand. It probably ought to, but there was no proof, and so they passed through, Than sending another report to the nearby (and getting rapidly nearer) necrons.

As they headed down the stairs they could see the fighting ring, and there were several open cages. Among the cages were the corpses of several men, apparently gamblers who had been torn literally limb from limb. The beastlings in the corner were still in a rage with one minotaur still Tearing flesh off bone and whacking a dead slaver’s corpse with it. The brutality was gobsmackingly surprising. The minotaur spotted the C’tani and growled angrily and with the ripped off femur he attempted to wave it threateningly. No words were spoken.

Than looked at the Minotaur for a moment, taking half a second to consider the best way to talk this through. Then he shot one of the spectators as she tried to flee; the bolter round in this case a live one, a distinctive shriek followed by a wet thud of internal explosion inside the target; extremely messy.

“Death to the slaver!” he shouted.

The oxman lowered the bone and examined the C’tani carefully and spoke with very accented common, which suggested that it most certainly was not his first language.

“You are Abolitionist?” He asked as he dropped the femur and stepped toward them cautiously. “The doors, they opened. They let us out they say. This is you?”

“Abolitionist yes, our doing, no,” he said, snapping off another shot at one of the audience, which went wide and smashed several seats to kindling, as Sherin pushed past him.

The spectators were splattered into bone fragments and splattered flesh as they seemed to go down quickly as the Minotaur had managed to rough them up quite messily. He was unarmed and used his talents in the ring to manage to free the others once his cage was unlatched. He examined the people around him for any objects that looked remotely useful, but didn’t seem to see any gold on them.

“Hm, how very strange. This is something that makes little sense. Who unlocked the cage?” He asked as the other beastlings began to escape the basement and brutally tore anyone who tried to stop them from escaping, and other guards who attempted to kill them.

“Perhaps it was the ghoul-child then?” The Minotaur said with a confused expression.

“Perhaps,” Than said, reloading again, this time conserving his ammunition for when the armed guards appeared, passing his sword to one of the beastlings, as the other two did likewise.

“Is he here?” Sherin asked.

“Last I heard, he was with his master with the hitting stick, and they seemed angry. They spoke in that language I couldn’t understand. They went up to the third floor on the elevator, but I don’t know where that leads.” The beastling said with confusion. “But perhaps that is how the ghoul-child was able to release us?”

“Perhaps,” Than said, “Are any of you injured?” he asked.

“Some of us are dead. But it was a good death. Taking down slavers is always a good death. I imagine you have watched your friends and family die before, have you?” The Minotaur asked with a raised eyebrow, not believing that his circumstances were outstanding.

“Another time,” Sherin said, taking out a baton made of black zalantar wood, wrought into a single piece, and flicking it with his wrist, the motion and the grip triggering the core of the device, made of living metal to extend, the inter-atomic gaps in the metal changing as it altered its bonding state, becoming a slim bar, almost two feet in length, “Here, take this,” he said, passing it to one of the other gladiators, and passing his cane to another, “It will shock on impact,” and how, as Than and the tiefling passed their own backup weapons over. “Let’s get some guns.”

“We owe you for this one kammeraad.” The minotaur said as he took the SAP baton and rushed up the stairs and attempted to give cover to the small, weak, and injured beastlings. The area was quiet once more as they cleared out carefully. This left Than and Sherin and the tiefling in the empty arena room, with the smell of bloody dismembered corpses left behind. The way to the west was clear and left open, and the stairway led up, there was also an elevator in the north section. Along the south section was several gnarled metal cages, all of which were left open with the small bits of straw left strewn about. It had a terrible putrid scent the closer one got to it. There was a few others objects of interest around.

“Well that was... impetuous,” Sherin said, as they hared off. “How long until the necrons are here?”

“Minutes,” Than said.

The Tiefling frowned, “Go with them, Than and I will continue,” he said, running toward the stairs, which they bolted into without a second thought.

The way up the stairs was direct, as their steps clattered on the old wood, the area up the stairs led into an old office on the third floor, and it was lavishly furnished as the pair could hear rather heated discussion in the next room. While the floors on the first and ground floor were heavy for privacy, the office doors were paper thin. The voices were both recognizable. One was the young Finn who sound oddly shrill with his voice trembling, and quavering. The other was the older man’s that they heard before. It was cold and angry.

“But you’ll end up with a large debt with the coterie, and you don’t want to cross them… It’s it’s not a good idea, look, you’re better off keeping me here and alive so I can… I can make it less, look I know I made a mistake, I didn’t know they were C’tani. I had no idea, I’m not a traitor. Please!” He shouted as there was a nasty cracking noise up ahead and he let out a shout.

“Regardless, I am hearing that your shitty petty revenge against Morthol got him arrested and now has brought C’tani here, you KNOW what is going to happen, and at this point, I am pretty fucking sure the whole police station will be here in half an hour at the least. I am not covering for you. Your life is forfeit already, demon. I will tell them everything you have done. I will sing like a canary, because they like a compliant witness.”

Upon hearing this as they approached, the two paused at the door, the Tiefling reaching for his sword only to find it gone, frowning slightly, and summoning his will as Than shot the lock off; from a few paces back, the bolt exploding on burying itself into the wall, and then throwing the door open. As he did, his companion released the magic in his blood, stygian darkness seeming to crawl from the sides of the room to fill it completely, and the adjacent room, Than and his companion diving away from the door as they passed through.

The young tiefling was on the ground and appeared to have bruises and cuts and the other man held his hands up over his head, and demonstrated that he was harmless. Than could see the room was filled with boxes and it seemed like the man was preparing to move and was packing. The man spoke with an obsequious and uncharacteristically shrill voice.

“I surrender!” He said as he looked at Than with his hands placed on his head. “I’ll come quietly. The room was pitch black after a few moments.

Finn coughed a little as he caught his breath and looked over at the pair and sighed. He didn’t move immediately but then he pressed his weight against the floor, disoriented from the darkness and he stood, not knowing which way was the one he was supposed to be facing particularly.

There was a prowling beast in the room, it seemed, from the sounds, but it was difficult to locate exactly where it was...

“Where are you?” Finn asked as he got into a defensive stance and swung his fists randomly in the air, not sure what to hit. “Come out! Come out! I’m ready for you!”

It wasn’t the boy that was its target however, and the C’tani Tiefling attacked the pimp-slaver with a snarl of released rage, striking at his head with the solid butt of the gravbolter pistol. The pimp was knocked aside, his jaw seeming to lock up as he was knocked silly to the ground. This sound made the young tiefling boy gasp with worry as he growled and fought the shadows desperately and kept attempting to get a view of whatever was attacking.

“I said I surrender, you are C’tani aren’t you? Or… oh fuck it’s a beastman mage. I thought Javen dealt with them already!” The Pimp then reached down blankly attempting to find his cane, and so that he could defend himself from the potential beastman mage.

The prospect of being less feared than one of the natives did not apparently sit well with the Ctani, who grappled with the cane, muscular tail smacking the fellow’s arm even as the gun was pressed to his head, and Than moved around to stand next to them, and the darkness receded.

“Wait… you’re not C’tani… wait what the fuck ARE you?” He asked as he felt the barrel of the gun against his skin, making him gasp as he saw what looked like a tiefling and a human. “Look, I don’t know if he’s your kid or not, but YOU CAN HAVE HIM BACK!”

There was a strange metallic shredding sound from somewhere nearby as a squad of necrons made its arrival felt on the fleeing spectators, quite what they were doing wasn’t to be told from this distance, but it was probably nothing good. The Tiefling, notably more demonic in appearance, grabbed the cane and flung it away.

“I surrender, I said! I will not resist!” The man shouted as he kept his hands up and Finn looked at the pair for a moment.

“H-Heeey, it’s you guys… I-I thought…” He started as the pimp looked over at them and pointed at Finn.

“This young man is a murderer for the Coterie! I’ve heard him confess to the crime and am willing to cooperate as a witness against him.”

The C’tani grabbed him and pulled him onto his belly, cuffing his wrists behind him with one hand keeping him covered with the other. “Remind me how it goes?” he asked.

“Damned if I know,” Than said, “You’re under arrest, shit for brains, if you say anything we’ll probably fuck you up with it if you get to a court.”

“IF?” He asked with a blank expression for a moment. “I am a witness. I am not a criminal. I am merely a landlord.”

“Ah, here we go,” Than said, pulling out a card, “You are under arrest on suspicion of slavery. You are warned that anything you say may be used to establish your guilt before a court of law. You have the right not to answer any questions, if you so choose, and the right to legal counsel, if you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be assigned to you. Any attempt to escape may be met with lethal force...”

“Are you okay Finn?” Than asked.

“I’m not dead.” He said with a small laugh. “Thought for a moment, I thought you were going to kill me, I couldn’t see a damned thing. What was with all that loud noise downstairs?”

“Necrons arriving, they’ve orders to rescue the beastlings and put the audience to the sword,” Than said, “Well, capture them at least. Sleeping Ones, we’ll need another wing at this rate...”

“What’s Sleeping Ones?” The Pimp asked randomly wondering if there was some meaning to the phrase. “Look, I am not a slaver, I’m a landlord and I rent the rooms out to the whores. How they use the rooms is their own business.”

“Shut it, slaver. I want to hear one thing from you,” Than said, “I want to know where we can find a man called Ralthier, a fence. Tell me, and maybe, just maybe, I might look the other way for a bit...”

“Ralthier, you say? I might have heard of such a man. He lived by Ahriman the madman up and across the old slaughterhouse. There you will be able to find him. So I have your word that you’ll let me go?”

“No, we won’t. You’re coming with us, and when we have the man, then we’ll let you go. Up you get...” Than said. “Let’s go and find Sherin, eh?” he said, looking to Finn.

“Must I come with you, Than?” The boy asked as he looked over at the pimp with a nervous glance. “I mean, I don’t want to cause any trouble, but…” He made a meaningful glance at the group and caressed his injured shoulder for a moment as he tugged at his shirt slightly.

“He’ll help fix you up,” Than said, “Do you need me to carry you kid?”

“I think I can carry my se-err… walk myself. I can’t carry anything, come to think of it.” Finn seemed to laugh for a moment as he looked at Than with a tired sigh. “Though, having someone to lean on might be nice. I imagine walking might be trouble. I am curious though…”

He helped the boy up, and then, carefully holding his arm to prevent it jostling too much, held him in a fireman’s lift, there might still be guards about, and a bit of movement was necessary, “Careful now,” he warned, “what are you curious about?” he asked as they set off.

“My pimp said that you guys are cops, are you really cops, then?” He asked thickly as he hissed from the pain and leaned on Than carefully. “If so, I’m both a snitch and also a dead man, aren’t I? I told you everything.”

“We’re prison guards, actually, a bit of a personal mission we’re out on,” he said. “But as we’re off duty you’re not really snitching...” he said, “I say guards, I’m actually more the admin department, and Sherin’s really only staying with us because we’re short handed...” he said.

“Prison guards? So you guys aren’t cops? But… I presume you’ve called the cops. Look, I am not sure what will happen, but I’m letting you know ahead of time that there’s… no hard feelings. I’m sorry I got you all into such trouble.”

“Don’t worry about it, and by the by, it doesn’t really matter who you’ve stabbed. Just don’t do it again. And they don’t give you trouble for finding a slaver lair, if anything they give you awards.”

“Don’t think I want any, it’ll only cause trouble… unless I scrape enough money to leave. You think someone will hire me somewhere out in your planet place?” The young man asked hopefully trying to see some sort of bright side to his predicament. If the coterie thought he was snitching he was in deeper shit than he realized. “What’s the best place to go in the C’tan, do you think?”

“For work, and education, Duat, really is good. But there’s no shortage of places where there’s jobs going. Aligreth’s got a lot of work without too many qualifications needed,” he said, as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Aligreth, huh? Is that where the uh… Sherin is from? Maybe I could see if I could work in one of his temples or something. His Gods are nice enough to not murder me, this is an interesting precedent and I am curious about it.”

“They don’t care what you look like, or who your parents were...” Than said, “my sister is one of their priestesses, given me the full lecture...” he said.

“Does she have an apprentice or something? Does she teach?” He asked curious, as he didn’t know Than had a sister and the feeling made his heart ache as he remembered his own sister and felt an itch in the back of his throat. “I mean, I’m probably asking a bit much… maybe I could learn from someone like her I mean.”

“If that’s what you want to do, they have schools too...” he said, as they stepped outside, expecting to see necrons, beastlings and captives.

The Beastlings seemed to be curious of the necrons, and a few carefully massaged the smooth hard living metal, seeing it as a novelty that was extra amusing, given that they also moved and spoke like people did. The young tiefling shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t know what I want to do, but I know what I don’t want to do. I’m tired of stealing, and I’m tired of killing. I am tired of being hurt and going to bed covered in bruises or bleeding from somewhere or smelling like blood. It’s really exhausting. I just want to sleep or something without dreading waking up in the morning.”

“Right,” he said, as Sherin walked up, looking at once sympathetic and vaguely irritated that someone had beaten the poor kid up right away, performing a lesser healing ritual this time, and looking at the landlord with an irritated glare.

“Did you do this?” Sherin asked.

“Hm, did I do it, young man?” The pimp asked the young tiefling as he glanced over.

“No, ser.” Finn said with a cringe.

“You have your answer.” The pimp said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Even the ‘victim’ says I didn’t. So I think this clears my name well enough.”

“He did it,” the C’tani tiefling said, and Sherin glared at him.

He held out his hand over the man’s head, and began to speak loudly, “The foes of Ra are turned away, and are utterly annihilated. No light will grant them blessing. They are cursed, and vindicated by none! I am Re, God of the Morning and Evening sun, I shall not let you eat, nor drink, in this life or the next, without the taste of excrement and the smell of urine upon you.”

“W-What the fuck...are you talking about?” He asked and remembered the odd beastman god across the border that was worshipped by some. “Look, I’m not into beastmen god things. I didn’t touch the kid, and he said so, no need to get all… My Gods what the fuck is that… urgh…” He started to gag as the scents and tastes became overwhelming and he dry heaved and panted as he spat trying to vainly get the taste out of his mouth. The man became exhausted as he tried to catch his breath with the disgust overcoming him. “What the hell did you do to me?”

“I am Shezmu, and I obey the commands of Re, that Ma’at may be upheld. To you I give naught of flesh, or of wine, or water, or ale or any other good thing, begone from my sight, you shall have nothing but what the Great God commands,” he said, and then walked off to tend to the beastlings again.

“I think he cursed you,” Than said.

“Well make him UN curse me I didn’t do anything to him!” The pimp shouted angrily. “You can’t believe how disgusting this is… remove whatever his thrice accursed gods have done to me.” He protested. “I’ve been nothing but cooperative!”

“Also you beat up small boys...” the C’tani tiefling said, as Sherin collected their weapons in.

“I did no such thing! Slander!” The man said with move gagging and he spat again. “Water… please, water!”

Than smirked, and held up a small hip flask, “Not water but close enough...” he said pouring some into the pimp’s mouth. Naturally it tasted of human waste.

He spat it out and tried to desperately wash the taste out, but found no relief at all. There was nothing that took away the flavor nor the overpowering odor of old putrid urine and day old shit. Levanna looked over at the pimp and seemed to be confused as to why the pimp was spitting and gagging and backed away in disgust. One of the other younger girls, a small child prostitute seemed to hold in a giggle as she looked over at Sherin with a sense of loving Adoration. She attempted to tug at his coat, and reached to hug him.

The beastlings were still plinking upon the necrons, utterly and completely fascinated. So fascinated that they did not witness the curse at all.

“He’s robot that talkssss.” One of the frogloks said with a garbled pronunciation of common. “Most peculiar!”

The Frogloks got some attention, various necrons posing with them and hugging them for some reason.

One of the Frogloks took a picture from one of the dead slaver’s phones and seemed to be pleased to get a bunch of terrible snapshots and maybe a few great ones. The rest had only part of a frog, and part of the necron, and the other had only part of the necron and no frog at all. They seemed to swarm a bit as a Saugahin was attempting to see what the fuss was about, and he picked up one of the old phones and was tapping it like the others, but not entirely sure how it worked, he took a picture of the floor and was startled by the snap.

“Whed dha llisc air dhair dhailr? Id necar ruin luaira eln llrerh. Ischerre!” He shouted as he attempted to make sense of it.

What in the hells is this thing? How curious that it flashes and makes noise. Weird!

“Okay,” Than said, standing up on a piece of masonry fallen from the garden wall when the necrons had attacked, “I’d like all the ladies and lads who worked here to get inside the garden please…”

“Thu ssraunjulw frounklw hemaun haus sauok hu waunss es si mizu si shu jaurkun.” One of the frogloks said with a raised eyebrow in a croaky voice. Another froglok with a particularly warty face looked over at Than for a moment.

“Thu Gaurkun?” He asked as he looked confused.

“I hauzu ni okuau whw uoshur.” He said with a shrug and pointed at the man with assuredness.

“Wu'ru nis jussonj shis auru wu?” One of the frogloks asked with a sense of jitteriness, he didn’t like the idea of going into the garden at all.

“I kin's shonr si, mausu.” The froglok said before he looked over at the C’tani.

“Not the beastlings!” Than added as they seemed inclined to go in, “Just the prostitutes.

One of the necrons, a tall “lord” with a single tail instead of legs, like a naga-form necron, started translating into Aquan.

The frogloks looked at the Necron with a blank expression and seemed to be amused. The Aquan was being translated into common rather easily.

“He looks like the Lord of Snakes of legend.” One of them said with a strange sense of admiration and awe, as the prostitutes were herded into the garden, some of them very startled by the necrons, the others seemed to be oddly blank with perhaps their shock being a bit more by the blood covered beastmen than by the necrons.

One of the women was waved over by Levanna who snapped her out of her terror induced stupor. Than would find the people to be much more receptive to him rather than to the necrons.

“Come on step lively ladies we’ve not got all night!” Than said, “Now, anyone who’s paid for time with these lovely ladies, come gather ‘round me…” he said.

One of the customers approached Than in confusion. “Now look here, I paid to have my services met, and with discretion. Is this some sort of extortion or is it blackmail?” He asked as the women and male prostitutes had made their way to the Garden by the stone fountain and right outside the small hedge designs with the oddly blue shrubbery.

The C’tani tiefling stepped up to him, “Speak when spoken to,” he said, “show more respect to authority or it’ll go badly for you,” he said, glaring at the customer, and taking out his baton again, now that it was recovered.

“Y-Yes, ser.” He backed down and was a bit less worried about what would happen if his wife found out and was more worried about what would happen to him. They seemed much more aggressive now.

The Prostitutes began to converse by the fountain and seemed to be rather worried about what would become of them. Usually the penalty for prostitution was placed heavily on the prostitute rather than the customer if there was an illegal mark on a specific person it would be troublesome.

“So how many lashes d’ya think we’re getting?” One of the women asked as one of the older men shrugged.

“Who can tell, darling. With these people it’s quite likely we’re all getting flogged for pissing off noblewomen rather than anything we’ve done legally.”

“Prostitution’s legal in the imperial city innit?” One of the younger boys complained. “S‘not fair we’re gettin’ the floggin’s. I did nothin’ that Imperialites haven’t dun already.” The boy said with distress at the idea of town square flogging.

“Well I don’t care as long as we aren’t getting shot. I mean those were C’tani officers. Only lookin’ fer slavers so I ‘ear.” The bearded man in the corner said.

“Well ya weren’t slavin’, so it’s not a big deal… I think.” One of the women said with a shrug.

“Least we ain’t in Palomecia. Can you imagine what hell would be unleashed if we were there and got our noble patrons caught? The scandals would be from here to the moon.” A blonde haired woman said with a worried tremble.

“Come on, anyone else?” the C’tani said, wishing he had a megaphone, as he looked at the ring of people trapped by the necrons as they’d tried to flee.

The spectators to the beast baiting and beastmen fighting had been mostly corralled in one spot with one of them looking at the necrons for one moment before making a bolting sprint away toward the street.

The Naga-necron pointed his long bladed guisarme at the runner, and shouted something in his own language. One of the troops turned, going down onto one knee and cradling the gauss flayer carefully to aim for a neater shot, before firing. “FLIGHT PROVES YOU ARE GUILTY!” the Sarintel announced.

The runner was shot by the gauss flayer and he felt his body ripped apart by the atom as he screamed in agony, the scream and watching the man flayed off to the bone and then into dust and into nothing was more than enough to discourage more fleeing from the crowd.

“Who else was a customer of these lovely ladies and lads here?” Than asked, trying to put enough menace into it that it sounded like he might kill those who came forward too.

“Well fuck me…” One of the men stepped forward and headed towards Than. He was hoping it would be quicker to come forward, perhaps better than being gaussed at least.

“Now gentlemen! Which lady were you with? I want all of you to stand next to the prostitute you were with!” he announced.

He walked up to Marta, one of the older Prostitutes, which was not saying much as they were all very young, with an exception for a handful. He stood by the dark skinned beauty as he shrunk away a little bit and the other customers approached the other prostitutes and followed line.

“Now, all of the prostitutes who’re not engaged, head back inside, and take anyone under sixteen with you,” he said. The actual age of consent was more complex in the C’tan empire but that would do, Than felt, for getting the more egregious customers, watching to see which customers were left without a partner.

There were quite a few left over with about thirty customers who had their prostitute taken inside, and one of the men looked at the C’tani. “You took the other ones inside, how are we supposed to-” He started.

One of the necrons smacked him over the head, as they proceeded to grab those thirty and march them to the wall.

They were led to the wall and didn’t seem to resist as they seemed to pull out their wallets, one of them approached one of the necrons and offered him money to let him go. The necron looked at him, and then shoved him against the wall, twisting his wrist painfully enough to tear ligaments and then stepping back.

Than looked at the remaining customers, with the adult prostitutes, “The rest of you, it’s your lucky day. We don’t care about prostitution per se. Clear off, hell, you can even go inside if you want, though I don’t recommend it…” he said.

“Praise the Holy Gods!” One of the men said terrified. “You’re not tellin’ my wife are ya?”

“Not if you run off right now, no,” he said. “GO!”

They didn’t have to be told twice, noblemen, fisherman, carpenter and masons all fled faster than one could say ‘blightfish’ and they sprinted away from the necron company and were glad it wasn’t their turn to be put to the ax.

“The rest of you… everyone who’s not a prostitute or a beastling, you are under arrest either for child rape or conspiracy to murder and slavery. Form a line in the road!”

They seemed to line up and one of the men protested. “This is the only time I’ve ever done this. I’d never would have done it. I didn’t do it, I swear!” The man pleaded.

“Silence,” the Tiefling said, “you will be processed later!” he snapped, giving the man a prod with his shock baton, “Back in line.”

He screamed and headed toward the line as he groaned and fell in line quickly as he attempted to put distance between him and the necrons.

“Sit down, hands on your heads,” one of the necrons barked as they began to secure the various customers of one type or another for transport to Greythorn Jail, and Than and his friends walked to the ‘Landlord.’

“I trust you’re going to behave yourself?” Than asked.

“I said I would even if you did something unholy to me. I am asking again to tell your friend to get rid of this damned curse!” He said angrily.

The tiefling laughed, a laugh almost of a monster, terrible and wild, and menaced him with the baton, “Yes or no will be enough from you!”

“I said yes!” He complained while spitting again.

“Good,” Than said, “Now, describe Ralthier for me,” he said, “what does the man look like?”

“Older man, he’s a Tor, but has greying hair.” The man said with a frown “A beard and a mustache.”

“Good man, off we go,” he said, removing the cuffs from the man, “Let’s go find him.”

“Don’t even think about running,” Sherin said.

“I said I wouldn’t run, and I won’t.” The pimp said with a frown at Sherin. “What more do you want from me?”

“Take us to our man and we’ll lift the curse when we have him. On you go,” Sherin said.

“A moment,” the Tiefling said, “I think the one that strangled the boy is coming back...” he said.

The patron noticed the Necrons from his car and immediately sped in the opposite direction with the tires squealing loudly and the man began to speed off into the local one way street.

Sarintel surged after him, phasing through one of the buildings, several wraiths following at vehicular speeds. The man switched gears and swerved ahead turning into a busy thoroughfare and he narrowly missed hitting a woman before spinning and losing control of his vehicle and crashing it into a fire hydrant. The water gushed out flying upwards of about upwards of two stories from the high pressure. The airbags of his vehicle smashed into his face and bruised his nose, but didn’t snap it out of place.

“Arghhh….” He murmured as he attempted to climb out of the wreck.

Sarintel bent the door back, seizing him and pulling him out of the wreckage.

The man was pried out of the wreckage and took a breath as he was soaked by the pouring water and took advantage of such slippiness to attempt to wrench his way free and removed his shirt and sprinted, limping away from him.

The necron slithered after the criminal, with a kind of mechanical sigh of annoyance, whacking his legs with the butt of the staff.

The whack had the unexpected effect of making the man do a diving faceplant on the ground, where he cursed and attempted to climb back up and couldn’t get to his feet.

“Argh….I’m spent.” He moaned as he looked back at Sarintel.

He grasped the man by the scruff of the neck and hovered back toward the brothel, dumping him on the tarmac in front of the guards.

“Argh….. what do you want?” He asked as he blankly looked up at the necron guards and shielded his face with his hands, not willing to look them in the face. “I didn’t do anything, I just came here one time. Only time I’ve ever done anything.”

The Tiefling grinned, “I know lies, you runt. Get up.”

He got up to his feet and groaned as he looked up at the tiefling and suddenly put two and two together of course his two and two ended up being thirty four.

“Holy shit, you’re that kid’s father? Look, I didn’t mean to hurt your kid, honest.” He lied.

“Get up.”

“Seriously! I didn’t!” He got up and panicked for a second as he attempted to get to his feet.

“Guess my profession,” he said, taking the baton in hand again and flipping it out to its full length, which it assumed with a sound like groaning steel, sparks flicking off it as he tapped it against the wall beside them.

“Are you a cop?” The man asked with worry written all over his face.

“Worse. What is your name, wretch?” he asked.

“Decimus.” The man said “Decimus Anderfoll.”

“Ah, you have a surname? That makes you a man of standing does it?”

“Perhaps.” he stammered. “I-I-I don’t think it is much standing.”

“So, how often is it you choke young boys to death to satisfy your abhorrent passions?” he asked.

“I’ve never done it before. Not even once. This was just a fluke, I don’t intend to ever do it at all. It was taken too far, I know. I’m messed up, and I’ve made a mistake. I can change! I am talking with a psychiatrist.” He said with his hands waving.

“Men like you can never change!” the tiefling barked, “Tell me the real answer.”

“It’s like I… like I said, you don’t know how much shame it is to have these urges and not be able to control them.” He said playing for sympathy. Given that he was a Tor, his acting was magnificent. However, any man worth his salt knew that it was utter bullshit.

“You broke the law! There is no excuse! Out with it or I’ll thrash it out of you!”

“I don’t know!” He said as he tried to remember.

“You do not know how many boys you’ve killed? That is the wrong answer! HOW MANY?”

The man put his hands over his ears and blurted out. “I don’t… I have… it’s more than… well.”

“Out with it,” the Tiefling said, almost trembling in rage.

“I think… I only did it… once? Twice… I don’t know. I’ve paid the blood price six times, but I don’t think I killed six people. I just got a fuckin’ pimp extorting me to give his damned whores more money. I don’t know, I said I’m not sure. Not because I don’t know if I’ve done so, I just don’t know if the people I’ve strangled are really dead.”

The Tiefling’s eyes burned with a flash like fire, his brow contorting in rage underneath his exaggerated horns, “SIX!” he shouted, and began to beat the man, counting, “ONE!” and so on, administering six heavy blows with the truncheon to the man’s arms and midriff, each one accompanied by a paralyzing electrical shock.

The pain made him fall to the ground as he tried to pull himself up, once more, and attempted to balance himself, but he felt like perhaps his arm was broken in several places.

“You’ve… that’s enough…” He moaned. “I don’t know if I’ve killed them.”

“I will say when it’s enough,” the Tiefling said, panting in rage, “Not you!” he said, previous control reasserting itself. “You never did guess my profession...”

“Soldier? Sailor? I don’t fucking know!” He shouted as he took a deep breath, having trouble reasserting his balance.

“I am an adjutant-guard of the accused, in the jail you will be going to. I have but one name, but you shall fear it nonetheless. I am Javert. And I am not done with you. Get in the line with the others,” he pointed with the baton.

The man named Decimus headed toward the line and was sickened by the pain and attempted to keep his ability to walk carefully with the others.

“I will be waiting,” Javert said, turning back to the pimp, “Move,” he said, clearly enraged. The pimp was dragged along and he motioned to a transport vehicle.

Than meanwhile, paused to make sure Levanna was taking care of Finn, and asked one of the necrons to guard them.

“Well ser, we should move along. I’ll tell you the directions and where to find him. There is a gambling hall by a derelict house on Aspen Street, we must head there right away, he does not stay long in one place, but I know his schedule.”

They got in, Sherin driving, and Than sitting in the back seat with the pimp, “Good man. Give directions.”

“Go up this road and take a right at the sign, hurry up and don’t miss the roundabout ahead, this light takes forever if we get caught behind it. Once we’re past the roundabout we want to get out on the second exit. The second one.”

Sherin’s driving was terrible, wavering over the road as if half drunk, “I think I’ve got the right idea here,” he said, “theres one of these pedals that you use called a clutch...” he said, frowning in absolute concentration.

“I hear there’s two breaks, one on one of the pedals and one on that lever thing...” Than put in as they wavered around ten miles per hour on the road.

“Why aren’t we flying?” Javert asked, confused, never having actually been in a ground car before.

“Foreigners make this look so easy...” Sherin bemoaned.

The Pimp was gripping for dear life as he attempted to keep his lunch down, it was very hard considering he had the taste of shit in his mouth, and the scent of urine in his nose.

“Over there, c’mon-NO NO THAT IS A ONE WAY STREET! A ONE WAY STREET! OH GOD WE’RE GONNA DIE!” the pimp shouted as he shielded his face and heard a loud beeping and the screech of brakes of another car that they barely missed. The Pimp’s breath was recaught as he tried to speak but yammered nonsensically for a moment.

“Ammut’s turds...” Sherin said, and attempted a U turn in the middle of the road, ploughing into a lamp post at a measly five miles per hour, bemused at the turning circle of the vehicle. “That’s not me. I swear the compensators must be shot.”

“I am…. astonished. You are supposed to be good drivers damn your eyes!” The pimp stuttered as he pointed at the turn. There take that one. We’re almost there.” He said as he was never more relieved to see a derelict building before in his life. “He should be in the gambling hall over there. Ask for Hugo, and he’ll point you to Ralthier.”

“Good. Sherin,” Than said.

Sherin handcuffed the pimp to the steering wheel, from the back seat, taking the keys.

“Do we need to immobilize the vehicle properly?” Than asked.

“The handling on that thing’s so bad I’m sure it’ll never move again,” Sherin said, walking off. “It’s like it had no gyros at all.”

“What the hell kind of car has a gyro?!” The pimp asked as he moaned and tugged his wrist backwards.

Than began talking to the necrons on his implanted communications system briefly as they approached the building the pimp had pointed them to, attempting to look nonchalant. The building was a gambling hall and seemed to have a group of burly looking Aurothi men who were standing by the door wearing plaid button down shirts torn at the elbow and a pair of leather gloves with a sewn on bit of steel bits stitched on the knuckle. They were supposed to stand by the Gambling Hall and ensure that people didn’t attempt to run off from paying the Gambling house what was due, as it wasn’t uncommon for people to attempt to bugger off once they lost all their winnings and everything else they had on them including the clothes off their back.

The Building itself was made of wood and had wooden frames which were carefully wrought to make it look more rustic and countryside than it actually was, because the wood itself used to frame the frosted glass windows was actually very valuable. Better to keep a low profile than to cause too much of a fuss. There was a raised eyebrow and a glance at the C’tani as they seemed to be keeping their distance. The men chattered in Yinudrel for a moment before regaining their solemn and serious expressions standing by the door.

Than resumed the act of being the most important of the group, walking ahead a little and bowing to the guards, “Good evening messirs,” he said, “I understand there’s money to be made here?”

“Of course there is, if you have a pass or a contact inside. We don’t want any trouble, but we’re a more lucrative business. Are you willing to tell me who your contacts are, or to show your pass? If not, you may apply for a pass and it will give you free entry for a month.” The tall man with golden locks said in a polite manner to the C’tani. He was not as threatening as he looked when he spoke, as his voice was oddly gentle and his features were much softer than his partner who has a scraggly beard and seemed to have a more rugged appearance and was shorter but more burly than the man who was speaking with Than. He didn’t seem to be all that worried by Than, he looked like some of the normal customers that dropped by.


Than pulled a bag of coins from his pocket and held them in one hand, then smacked the bottom of the hand, sending them sailing in the air vaguely in the man’s direction. “Is this a pass?” he asked.

“S’good enough for me, Ser, welcome to the Pine Glen Club, please enjoy yourself.” He said as he stepped aside and his friend dove for the cash. As they stepped aside Than was able to get past the large red wooden door, with iron framed designs which also meant to invoke the feeling of the countryside. As the man entered he would be able to hear exotic Palomecian music being played on a strange teardrop shaped lute, and there was a rousing drumming line with a beautiful woman adorned in soft lithe silks dancing with a tambourine and bells attached to her sleeves. She has beautiful almond shaped eyes that were dark brown and flowing curly hair. There were other women serving drinks, including some lovely pale skinned beauties in loose revealing clothing.

There was of course almost half the patrons completely drunk, while the others crowded around card tables and slot machines. The bouncers were wearing the same plaid uniforms that the men outside wore and some wore suspenders as well. They were not armed but they were strong enough to look threatening as they passed. There was also the smell of cooked food, spiced meat pies and home cooked pies with smooth ales that had an almost nutty flavor The gambling establishment was covered with deer heads and mountain goat horns and some other smooth furry throw rugs. There was a distinct scent of pine and some decor that invoked the feeling of the great outdoors and hunting regalia which appeared to be well made fakes.

Than looked around at the establishment, and shared a look at Sherin, who promptly began looking to see if there were any beastling-pelts on display. Because that seemed to be the way of these things. And as he examined the pelts, he would see that even the floor rugs were fake and made of plastic, but was fairly convincing except for perhaps a few throw rugs of a red roe deer which was real, and the taxidermy heads were also real.

Satisfied, they approached one of the bars, Javert sitting himself down next to one of the denizens of this particular establishment with a look of derision, and Than waved to be served, as if he was more important than everyone else present. The waitress immediately approached and she leaned forward with a bow. She was a dark skinned lady with long dreadlocked hair pulled back into a pony tail and she was wearing a white linen gown with a scoop neck and a tight bodice.

“Welcome to the Pine Glen Gambling Resort, how can I help you, Ser?” She asked as she provided a foamy amber ale which was cool and nutty with a dry aftertaste. “Our complimentary house ale, and the menu, what can I get for you to drink?”

As she was giving the menu and the ale, there was a beautiful elven woman with a bodyguard who was heading to the corner where a dark skinned man began to play the piano, and she began to sing a jazzy tune, with her blonde locks curled in spirals and her tight knee length gown shimmered as the other men whistled happily and raised their beer steins as she sang.

Than seemed not particularly bothered by the elven woman, looking at the waitress thoughtfully for a moment, then browsing through the menu. “What have you in the way of port?” he asked, it was a random question, really, he was not much of a drinker, his father however, tended to have expensive tastes in the matter of wines, and it seemed like the kind of question he’d ask.

“You’d be better looking at the red wines,” Javert said, as Sherin watched the elf out of the corner of one eye.

“We’ve tawny port, Ruby, White, Rose, and Reserved and late bottled vintages, while for the gentleman of refined tastes, might I interest you in a glass of fine Aggregio?” She asked with a warm smile.

“Are any of them foreign?” Than asked.

“Tevinter wines, Nathicanan, Menelmacari, and a few from Northern Treefolk, to suit your fancies.”

[The Ctan]

“Menelmacari then,” the young man said, the only one on that list that wasn’t either probably made by slave labour or funding organized crime.

“Fine tastes, Good Ser, and can I also interest you in some pumpkin soup or onion soup? They’re our specialties for today, along with the venison in red wine sauce, and the chicken-a-la-King.” She said with a smile as she noted the drinks.

“Chicken-a-la-king?” he asked.

“Never had it before? it’s a Chicken in a dry sherry sauce with butter and mushrooms and fresh chives with buttered noodles. It’s rather lovely, and we’ve made it our speciality to serve it with game hens, very very delicious.” She explained.

“Why not,” he said, passing a rather large - or at least proportionately so - amount of money over the counter, “keep the change.”

“Wha-wait, are you sure this is alright?” She asked as she whispered quietly. “You are… aware you’ve given me over five hundred fifty currents?”

“That sounds about right for three people...” he said, “is that a lot?”

The woman’s skin was dark enough that her blush could not be seen, but she bashfully smiled as she began to give back some of the money, her compassion getting the better of her. It was a lot of money, but she wasn’t about to scam the poor foreigners. “That’s over one hundred fifty dollars, my good ser.” She said as she smiled and leaned over. “If you need any help with anything, please let me know alright?” She asked with a playful wink at Sherin. “You should have some fun here, and get a chance to see more of the sights. You’re tourists aren’t you?”

“No, we work here, but we’re from abroad,” he said, “and gambling is sinful, though I thank you for the offer,” he said, playing up his own role somewhat.

“The sweetest things, you are adorable. So what brings you to the den of sin and wantonness?” she asked playfully.

“Wantonness is okay,” Sherin said, “it’s just the gambling.”

“This is a gambling resort, ser, I imagine you are a long way from the workplace, unless you wish to pick up converts among those who gamble right down to their socks?” She asked as she poured the Menelmacari wine for the group, and looked over at the corner where a fight was breaking out between the bouncers and one customer for apparently getting a bit too friendly with one of the barmaidens. This incident made the waitress rush to the barmaiden’s aid, offering her a bit of comforting words.

“Do you see him anywhere?” Than asked in Necrontyr.

“No,” Sherin said, “Ask the girl when she comes back...”

The waitress approached and gave a little bow as she seemed to be apologetic. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea that would happen, some men get a little…” The woman trailed off for a moment and tried to get a complimentary drink into their reach. “Your Chicken will be here in just a moment, please do let me know if there is anything I can do to help you.”

“That’s fine, thank you. You wouldn’t happen to know a man called Hugo around here? I’m told he has some good business sense...” he said.

“Oh, I see… yes, Hugo works in the back room, come with me and we can meet him, but I want to know who it was that referred him, it’s usually… less than savory characters who consult Hugo and you all don’t look like nasty fellows.” the waitress asked as she unlocked the back room, passing another pair of men dressed like lumberjacks.

“I look like Satan’s particularly angry uncle,” Javert remarked, “How much nastier do you want?”

“Actually you look sort of similar to a brother in law, so I just can’t see it.” She laughed at the comment as she opened the door and behind it were a group of men surrounding an older man with dark hair which was greying on a few spots. He had a dark mustache and sideburns, and unlike the others who were all dressed like lumberjacks, he was dressed like a hunter and seemed to be surprised.

“I wasn’t expecting company, who are you?” He asked as he motioned for the the men to approach. The woman stepped aside and seemed a little worried.

“Hello! We’re here to spread the good news of our Lady Ma’at,” Sherin said, “we were told that you were just the kind of people who might be in dire need of her humble servants’ ministrations.”

“You’re a priest?” The man asked with a raised eyebrow. “Thanks, but no, I already have a temple I frequent, my peace with God is great, I’m full of fucking good news. Now get out.” Ralthier said with annoyance as he pointed at the door.

“I think you misunderstand,” Sherin said, “Ma’at, Lady of Justice, desires your castigation,” he said, drawing his pistol, the other hand taking his baton which extended with a metal creaking sound, compressed and high as it shot into its new position, and Sherin immediately hit the nearest person who wasn’t a barmaid.

He immediately whapped the nearest thug and sent him careening backwards as another man was more worried about the gun and attempted to dive out the door shouting. “Fuuuuuuck.”

The left guard attempts to head away, missing a slap and not desiring to be shot Ralthier on the other hand pulled out an illegal hand cannon and pointed it at the Priest. “Put it down. Now.”

“Think well,” Than said, “There are three of us, and one of you,” he said, “are you convinced that you want to be shot today?”

“Who the fuck are you and what’s your order. I’ll be damned if I’ll let another one of you mafioso ilk cut in on my profits. Get the fuck out or so help me I’ll blow this place sky high. Or do you think that I’m bluffing?”

“Yes, I do,” Than said, “Go on, blow us up.”

The man fired at a box to the Left of Than and found himself disappointed to hear a bang that was insufficiently bangy, with small bits flying up on all directions, as a fire was beginning to spark up. Sherin used the moment to charge forward and attempt to beat the man with the stun baton. The barmaiden was knocked to the ground from the minor explosion and tried to get up as the other men began to attempt to flee before the place would go down in flames. Ralthier merely took his hand cannon in hand and watched as he seemed to be unimpressed by the stun baton. The stun baton hit him directly but the man didn’t immediately release his gun, as it misfired into the ground.

“Fucking hell. WHAT unholy wood is that?” He barely uttered.

Javert had decided that enough was enough, it seemed, and shot the man in the arm, above the gun, the intelligent projectile was programmed to detonate even on a near miss to a human target unless that target was below a certain total mass, and was dangerous for almost a meter around; Sherin was wearing armour, but even then it was a calculated risk. The bullet exploded after it pierced the man’s arm below the shoulder, blowing it off completely as his gun fell upon the ground and he let out a screeching howl as the barmaiden screamed and attempted to flee from the terrifying scene.

Sherin gasped and shoved the man away from him, stepping on the gun for a moment, looking at the fire carefully, searching his mind for something that would help, “Err. Fire extinguisher...” he said, kicking the gun away and backing off.

“Don’t have, them CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT!” The woman screamed as she backed away from the growing flames which was beginning to make the smaller boxes pop with small explosions. The man was bleeding profusely on the ground, the terrible wound sapping away his life.

Javert pulled the criminal to his feet, ignoring the others, while Than grasped the barmaid’s wrist, and Sherin prodded at one of the boxes with his baton to ascertain just how dangerous it was, shoving it away from the flames as he did so.

The boxes seemed to be filled with gunpowder and were slowly catching as the smaller boxes were obviously much less concentrated and filled with false filler to overblow the value. The nasty explosions however had the effect of releasing bits of sharp metal and casings. The barmaid was helped to her feet and immediately attempted to run out the door to not be caught in any flames that would come. The Altean Fire department arrived, but stood outside the building and did not intercede, not until the owner of the property was willing to haggle the price for saving the property. They couldn’t do anything for free.

Than urged the people out, and then stood briefly befuddled at the fire department. “What in the Abyssal City’s name are you bastards doing?” he shouted.

“Looking for the owner of the property.” The Fireman said waiting for someone to claim it. When no one was coming forward he just looked at the flames and did not seem to do anything. Even if he had the pressurized hoses and gear to keep the fire from spreading.

“Go and put the fire out!” he shouted, pointing with his baton at the smoke from inside the building.

“Putting out fires costs money and risks lives. If there’s no one in there and no one who’s willing to pay for our services, we aren’t going to intervene. It may as well be a derelict house. Might want to knock on the neighboring houses though.” The fireman said as he motioned for the men to check the houses. “It’s the slums down here, why fight it? It’s better than a demolition, as the city doesn’t have to pay for it.”

“There’s people in there, go put the fire out!” Than said, absolutely astounded.

“In where?” He said as he watched the people continuously ran out of the burning building, one of them partially immolating. “Oh, those. Not our responsibility.”

He sighed, “Fucking Alteans,” he said, and pointed the gun at the nearest of the fire fighters, or as it seemed, fire spectators, “Put the fire out or I’ll shoot you.”

“Whoa! Hold on, are you the owner of the damned place?” He asked as the man began to attempt to turn on the pressurized hose in panic. “Look, we’ll call the police if you don’t stop! Put those guns away!”

Javert had pinned Ralthier against the wall behind him, and was taking his sword out, “We are the police!” he shouted.

“What the fuck’s the matter with these damned cops! It’s not our job to stop everything that smokes!” The fireman said as he ran inside and began to put the flames out. Inside, Sherin was unloading as much soft drinks, water and non-spirits as he could lay his hands on into the fire, as the fire brigade finally seemed to turn up. The building was mostly intact and despite the explosions there were many that did not go off due to Sherin’s timely intervention, and Than’s well placed threat.

“The fire’s out.” One of the firemen said as he stepped over the burned corpse of one of the patrons.

“Right. You, there, chief, up against the wall,” Than announced.

“Excuse me?” The chief asked as he was busy rallying up the other men to return to the department.

“Up against the wall, you’re under arrest. If you want to give some keys to someone or something you can,” Than announced.

“Sherin, a hand here,” the tiefling cried, as he held his sword against the fence’s arm, and switched up the blade’s effective heat, “I need you to hold this guy down...”

The fence took pained effort to stand still as he attempted to step away desperately, realizing they weren’t mafiosos but fucking cops.

“What a day.” He said before he could feel his blood pressure dropping.

Sherin held him down, and began chanting in the Kemetic Aligrethan language, the pain subsiding for the time being, “You want me to do that?” he asked.

“Probably for the best,” Javert said, yeilding to the “Templar’s” medical experience. Sherin took the blade, and began to attempt to cauterise the injury, below the torniquet already tied further up the arm. Smoke and steam poured from the blade and the smell of frying bacon spread through the air. The man let out an agonized scream as he tried to attempt to flee from the crazy man, and was shocked that the blade was frying his skin and stopping the bleeding.

“Stay still you dumb bastard!” Sherin said, as Javert held his shoulder carefully, keeping his hand back as much as possible, when the cutting was done, he changed to using some manner of magic once more, the pain easing slightly, though still immense.

The man attempted to stay still but didn’t seem to see the value in it as he breathed hard attempting to stay conscious. The pain and blood loss made it very difficult. He looked over at the C’tani cleric for a moment and just tried holding still.

“Up against the wall,” Than said to the chief of the fire brigade, waving his gun, “Or you’ll get worse than him.”

The fire chief knew better than to resist the word of the man with the gun. He waited for the man to give the orders and commands, as far be it for him to want to lose a limb.

“You’re under arrest for gross negligence and manslaughter. Just be glad you’re not under arrest for murder,” he said, “You’ll probably live. Pick that fellow up, and come with us.”

“The man who is on the ground who is bereft of an arm?” The fire chief asked as he looked over at the cops in confusion. “I didn’t commit manslaughter, so what are you talking about? I followed standard procedure.”

“Talk again and I’m going to hit you,” Than said, “Just pick that guy up and come with us.”

The fire chief picked up the Fence named Ralthier and took a moment to head toward the C’tani. He followed as the other men were heading back to the fire department.

They marched the group back to the car, still left where it had been, expecting to see it very slightly dented by hitting the lamppost.

The Pimp was still in once piece but was still attempting to break off the car so that he would be a tad less uncomfortable as his arm were weak and painful from the position. He saw the C’tani returning and frantically increased his struggle and took effort to attempt to get away in time.

Than shook his head as he watched the Pimp, “So who do you want to be handcuffed to, the fireman or stumpy?” he called as they approached.

“Can I get handcuffed to the stump of stumpy?” He said with a smirk. “I jest, now now, don’t be such a sour puss. Whichever.” He said as he was merely glad he’d get uncuffed from the steering wheel unless he was going to have his other free hand cuffed to the next man, which for him would be akin to having his limbs pulled apart. “I’m not picky.”

They seized him and cuffed him to the fireman, while one of them took hold of the fence instead and they marched back to the brothel; at least, they were told to march, and pick up the pace, by Javert, often.

“Is this really necessary?” The pimp asked in a shrill voice as the Fireman didn’t manage to let the pimp keep the pace.

The tiefling took his baton, and smacked the pimp on the arm, behind and above the elbow, “Eyes front, move faster!” he shouted.

The man yelped in pain as the shocking pain made him drag behind for a moment more and the fireman grabbed him roughly and pulled him up. The fireman attempted to hustle the pimp quicker.

“Quicker!” Javert said as they arrived back with the necrons, and their gaol arks, parked outside the brothel, into which they were loading the prisoners, chaining ten inside each of them.

“Three more! The slaver-landlord, a manslaughtering fireman, and a murderer!” Than announced.

“I’ll have you know I am not a slaver, ser! I’m still waiting for my thanks for delivering to you the murderer, and what? You found a manslaughtering fireman? Wonderful good for you, now what do I get in return for my expected double contribution to the Principality?” He asked hoping that he was at least going to get some manner of commuted sentence.

Sherin held up his rod, “I am Ma’at who knows the Just from the Lost, and bid Shezmu my father’s servant to restore in balance to this man, his senses,” he said, and at least the horrid curse was dissipated. He gasped and was immensely grateful the curse was dispelled and choked and spat a little more until the taste was out of his mouth.

“There you go. And it might count in your favour at your trial...” he said.

“W-Wait, look if we’re talking about helpful things that can get me more favor, something that will quite obviously be useful information to you, I have many more, much more information. You’d be surprised, more people confess to me their darkest secrets that they wouldn’t to their wives, to their lawyers, nor even their priests. I can help more!”

“You’ll need evidence,” Than said, “or you’ll just name anyone. What evidence do you have?”

“Ledgers and manifests from a local roving band, raiders. Who go into local towns and bring me bitches… but while we’re on the topic of bitches, we have some prett-”

Javert hit him with the butt of his baton, “More care what you say of these respectable women, you swarm of worms and maggots in human shape,” he snarled, leaning in and whispering it maliciously.

“NO, No more curses look, I’ll call them FINE DEBUTANTES if you don’t curse me again, JUST NO MORE!” He shouted desperately.

“So these raiders bring you the women and then you force them into prostitution, worm?” Than snapped.

“You say force, I don’t raise a hand against them unless they have done something so unimaginably stupid that you’d smack them too I -”

He got another poke in the belly with the base of the baton for his troubles. “You accuse us of being scum like you, vermin?” Javert snapped.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, I merely am getting my impressions mixed up, clearly you aren’t beating me and are giving me the first class treatment for helping you. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Save your sarcasm, tell it quickly, and with proper respect,” he demanded.

“I get my fine debutantes from raiders who rove from local towns and they get the women to work for me, I don’t force them to do anything. I dress ‘em up, doll them up nicely, and I give them a pretty dress to wear, teach them the right way to talk, speak and please patrons. I don’t make them stay here.”

“A likely story,” Than said, “Where do these raiders camp?” he asked, “Where is their base?”

“I want to talk to a priest.” He said looking side glance at Sherin. “Not your priest.”

“You can talk to your god if you’re not careful,” Than said.

“As a dead man I am unremarkably of no use to you, and living I can at least do something right before your people shoot me.” He said with a shrug. “What do you have to lose?”

“You’re not getting a priest. Out with the rest of it.” Than said. “The priests in this country are just criminals in cassocks.”

“Very well, I have a ledger that details specific meeting points, and it also details specific towns the regularly visit. I’m not sure about any of the details, but I am giving it to you, along with the backlogs of the raiders held on my harbor warehouse. It’s under my wife’s name. I don’t think it’ll pick up any alarms so you could find it.”

“Javert,” Sherin said, “Take one of the necrons and help this fellow fetch his evidence...” he said.

“Try not to let him bleed on it...” Than suggested.

“Right,” Javert said, hustling the fellow toward a necron, pausing by one of the open topped prison transports to shove the shock baton against Decimus’ back in passing.

Decimus shouted and yelped from the pain and attempted to not move much against him. The Necrons were something he again, did not expect and made him terrified and he locked up.

“J'aime ces choses,” the tiefling said, stowing the extendable baton after looking at it for a moment, and dragging the pimp back to the house, now merely handcuffed.

The Pimp was dragged back to the house as he merely stood where indicated, and tried to to keep even a hair out of line, the sense of relief not coming, but at least he couldn’t taste the horrible curse on his tongue anymore, though, he longed for a drink to get something to get it off his mind.

“So, that kid… was he really your son?” The Pimp asked surprised that the man hadn’t come earlier. “I mean… I mean no offense but… you guys don’t look anything alike.”

“It’s the horns,” he said, “Come on, get the rest,” he said, ready to give the fellow a clip around the head to speed him up but regretfully concluding it would not actually speed him up.

He removed the ledgers and records and a few other bits of paperwork as he offered it to the C’tani as he unlocked the lock box. The pimp also took out a box of cigars and gave it to Javert. “Make some good use of ‘em, at least.”

The tiefling looked at him with an incredulous, disbelieving look between his bushy sideburns.

“Whaat? I’m not asking for anything am I?” The pimp said apprehensively. Not that he would turn it down were it offered. “Here are some additional records on smugglers out of the West Lands, see? I’m a good friend to have.”

The tiefling seemed to twitch slightly, as if suppressing a great emotional outburst. “Friends?” he asked after a moment, in a voice that sounded as though it could scorn the very notion of friendship and in so doing unmake the concept itself, so repellant was this man’s friendship. Since he had little concept of honest friendship it had little value as well, but as far as he was concerned it was good enough.

He held his hands out and expected to be handcuffed again as it was difficult for him to maneuver the locks.

The Tiefling took the box,opened it, and grabbed one of the man’s hands, putting his fingers on the cigars and slamming the box shut as hard as possible.

The man winced and attempted to regain the feeling in his fingers as he shook his hand out and shouted.

“THERE’S THE PAIN AGAIN. Argh… Well, that’s really clearing up the sinuses. Truly this works better than my doctor’s prescribed antibiotics let me tell you. ugh...” he moaned as he felt his eyes reddening.

“If you stop breathing, I’m not giving you mouth to mouth. Move,” he said, prodding the man back out to the lawn.

He sat out on the lawn and tried to recollect himself still moaning from the pain as he tried to calm his breath, the throbbing of his hand and the pain in his head and chest was still raw but he didn’t want to say anything more, as they’d just hit him more.

He didn’t get to sit down long, as the necron siezed him and took him to the elaborate cage-cart with the others, chaining his hands up above him.

Meanwhile, the three prison guards secured the documents in an evidence box, where more professional police could look. With the fence in custody, but not able to be interrogated yet, their work for the night was done, it seemed, at least until he could be questioned.

They headed back inside the brothel, still carefully guarded by the necrons.

The women looked rather concerned and annoyed. They had not the relief one would imagine from a person who was freed from a slaver.

“Hello again,” Than said, looking around for Levanna.

“Ah, you’re back. Are you alright?” She asked worriedly as she had heard the fire alarms from quite far off and saw the smoke in the distance. “I thought there was some sort of bombing.”

“Ah yes. We got the man though. He’ll live. For now.” Sherin said. “Is Finn here?” he asked.

“I think he went out, said something about wanting to go visit his parents, which is odd, because he’s never talked about parents before.” Levanna said with a shrug. “Maybe he went out to see a girlfriend or a boyfriend. I’m not sure.”

Than sighed, “Where’s the nearest graveyard that would have non-humans?” he asked. He decided not to humour the other notion that sprang to mind, which was that he’d gone to his criminal associates again.

“There’s one that is on the hill but most of those aren’t marked.” The woman said pityingly.

“Can you tell me where?” he asked.

“I can take you there if you need to, let me just get something different to wear.” She said as she quickly dove through the clothes closet and began to change as she came out in a more comfortable outfit than her working one. She tugged on a sweater and stepped out, and waved to Sherin and Than. “C’mon, let’s go and I’ll direct you.”

“Okay,” Than said, taking out a sleek looking device and stealing another car that he reckoned belonged to one of the punters they’d locked up, the device unlocking it with ease. “Sherin, you want to drive this one?” he asked.

“I have a licence if you don’t mind me driving, I can get you there easiest this way.” Levanna said hoping she had not overstepped her boundaries.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Sherin said, “they can’t all be in such bad condition as the last one,” he said, sitting down and using another model of the same thing Than had used to unlock it, “Have a seat,” he said, studying the dashboard carefully.

She sat down and comfortably buckled herself as she took a moment to get a good view of the road. “First thing we need to do is go down Amaranthine Drive, and then turn over at Ochre Boulevard, and then at the third corner, we take the third left.” She said as she sat down. “If you can’t see the signs, I’ll point them out.”

The driving was as bad as before, the car stopping and starting several times as Sherin decided that the throttle-pedal was probably actually something you had to keep adjusting, and he swerved onto the road and waited too late to turn, scraping the car against the far wall with a bone-jarring screech as one of the wing mirrors was shorn off and rode up against the window before clattering to the ground.

“Wesir’s Unliving Cock these are some terrible cars...” he said.

Levanna was as pale as a ghost as she pointed at the turnway. “Over there. Over there for Gods’s sakes. STOP!” She called as she heard the screeching of the brakes. She panted in terror as she tried desperately to calm down.

Sherin turned the engine off and worked the brake lever, “What? Have you got a car that works?”

“No no, this… this is fine. Pull over, over there. OVER THERE MY GOD DON’T HIT THAT GUY!” She frantically shielded her face worried that he’d hit the poor old man on the side of the road.

By this time, the motor was already off, and even he managed to turn out of the way. “What is wrong with these cars?” he asked, after a moment, breathing heavily.

“You turn too damned close, react slower, these things you have to TURN TURN LOOSER.” Levanna said as she tried to show him on the wheel. “Over there is the graveyard.” She said as she gestured to a location on the hill, perhaps oddly close to the city dump. The area was quiet at least and there seemed to be a group of families who were leaving a bottle of wine which was poured over gravestones which looked more like normal rocks sanded into shapes, and branches that has been skillfully carved into crosses. The rituals of the dead denied most of them, they had resorted to other means to honor the dead.

Sherin got out, eventually, beginning to work out the limitations of the vehicles, and parked with a surprising amount of skill compared to the rest of the drive, before getting out, and looking around the graveyard with a sense of pity. To Than’s relief, the young tiefling was sitting by his sister’s grave and noticed Sherin first, before getting to his feet and approached them slowly.

“Hey, guys. I thought I’d pay my sister a visit before we left, because…She deserve a bit better. I decided to see if I could find any lilies but I scared off the flower saleswoman. By accident I suspect, but she scuttled off, so all I could get was a few echinacea plants I could rip off someone’s yard. At least they’re her favorite color.” The boy said with a tired sigh.

“I can get you some lillies if you like,” Than said, “it will be no trouble.”

“Maybe… you think you can go up to the lady and tell her I’m sorry for giving her such a scare?” Finn said with a tired expression. “It was a long way to walk here, so…” He huffed and looked over at Levanna curiously. “What’s she doing all the way over here?”

“Well how were they supposed to find you otherwise?” She asked.

“Were you worried about me?” Finn asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, of course,” Sherin said, as Than disappeared vaguely in the direction indicated.

The little florist girl was tending to a wagon of flowers and seemed to be perhaps little older than nine as her mother sold flower arrangements. She wore a long full skirt with an apron and a tied bodice and had long blonde hair tied and woven into braided pig tails and her mother had a long blonde braid which was tied with a red ribbon like her long blouse and gown which she also wore with an apron and a tied bodice.

“Flowers for sale!” She called from her wagon. “Fresh cut flowers!”

As Than approached the little girl shyly backed away, and didn’t seemed to be confident enough to ask him if he was willing to be. She attempted to hang back as her mother called.

“Hey kid, are you selling flowers?” he asked, waving at her.

“I…am… Would you like some, ser?” She asked as she held the basket of lillies up and looked over them carefully. “They’re only three currents a bushel.”

He looked through his pockets, “Let’s go over to your mummy, or sister,” he said, not wanting to get the girl in trouble for passing her the new money.

“Hello there, Traveler, can I interest you in a bouquet of flowers? You can make your girlfriend or lover very happy, or perhaps a gift for your mother?”

“Lilies, I’m afraid,” he said, sorting through his wallet, “Three currents a bushel?” he asked.

“Yes, and I’m so sorry for your loss.” The woman said with a sad smile. “May they rest easy.”

He passed her eight, “Two bushels, please, I think should do,” he said, passing her the new silver coins.

“What strange coins you have, are you a foreigner, ser?” She asked with a raised eyebrow as she examined the coin.

The one current coin had a picture of Syrian’s head on it, though without a crown, and rather less flattering than the previous depiction, not least because it had Syrian Martel von Messandre, Crown Prince of Altea on it.

“Actually I am a C’tani, though these are new Altean coins.”

“So this is what they look like. I had heard they changed the sovereign coinage, but I had no idea about the way this actually looked like. It’s… much less handsome than the Gold Current. So the value is the same, only they are called Sovereigns, am I correct?”

“No, still Currents.”

“But they’re not gold at all.” The woman remarked with a smile as she looked at the current and put it in the coinbox and offered the elf the beautiful white lilies that were customary with funerals.

He smiled as he took them, “There’s actually a greater value of silver in them than there was gold in the current,” not that there was ever as much as was advertised in the previous coinage. “Also, I’d like to apologise, in case a friend of mine scared you before, the little demon boy. He didn’t mean to.”

“Oh, well. He didn’t scare me, he scared my little sister, but she’s jittery around people normally, so I hope he’s not taking it too personally.” The woman said with an embarrassed look at the ground. “I’m.. not sure she’s yet ready to do open sales.”

“Oh, well, she’s charming anyway, and do tell her that he didn’t mean any harm for me, won’t you?” he said.

“Of course, thank you for being so understanding.” The woman said as she gave a sympathetic nod to Than as she headed toward the little girl and spoke to her comfortingly in Yinudrel. She nodded and gave the man a quick wave. “Okay!”

“Thank you,” he said, “you have a nice evening,” he added, heading back to the graveyard, where, just as he’d predicted, Sherin was doing the priest thing, which was about to be expected, given the number of unmarked graves, his voice audible a little way away as Than approached.

Finn seemed to be surprised to see that Than had the big bushel of white lilies, he wasn’t aware of the fact that the flower girl was going to let him have the flowers for his sister, but then again, he realized it would be easy for Than, because he was human.

Than passed the flowers to Finn without a word, watching curiously, as Sherin concluded, “offering given by the Queen to Osiris, the lord of Hakara, the great god. That she may give invocation offerings of bread, beer, oxen, birds, alabaster, clothing, books and every good and pure thing that the sky gives, the earth creates, the inundation brings, on which the god lives, for the Ka of Elise, the Justified, True of Voice.”

“And so it shall be.” Finn said not familiar with the benediction, but he lay the flowers upon her grave and took a deep breath and tried to restrain his tears. He dry heaved as he squeezed his fists a little, clenching as he tried to make peace with the resigned expression that he felt climbing through his mind. He couldn’t do anything for her, but he could at least try and live better. “Say, Sherin… what does that mean?”

“It is a blessing, for the gods to include Elise in the otherworld, and give to her the things that are offered for the dead, and to admit her to their realm.”

“Will she be protected when she does?” Finn asked with a hopeful expression. “I hope she is, at least. I’m a terrible brother, but I am hoping I can do something.”

“Yes,” Sherin said, “very much so.”

“Thank You.” Finn said reassured sufficiently and he looked over the street as the poor prostitute finally caught her breath from the harrowing ride. “Are we going back?” He asked as he seemed to be satisfied with his effort.

“We ought to,” Than said.

“Alright, so I think I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to go to C’tan. I might not be able to pay off my debt, but.. I might be able to do something about it.”

“At least you’ll no longer be funding those guys,” Sherin said. “And don’t worry, they’ll have bigger problems soon.”

“You really think so, Sherin?” Finn asked wondering just what he meant. “I haven’t known the Coterie for being the kind of Organization to be affected by the law much. They’re not legal after all.”

“This country has not known law like ours before,” he said, “Think we should walk?” he asked, looking at the car.

“I. am. going. to. drive.” Levanna said insistently as she waved her hands frantically. “You are the most terrifying driver ever.”

“I’m an excellent driver!” he said, confused.

“Not a chance, my god, you are like the worstest drivers, the terriblest most terrifyingest driver. I can’t even think of a word to describe the utter horror I had while being your passenger!”

“Well it’s obviously a scarily misaligned car, I mean, it seems to have no turning thrust at all...”

“And what in Serion’s Green Earth is a turning thruster?” The woman asked baffled.

“Thrust, not thruster, you know, to generate angular momentum to turn the vehicle...” he asked, “you mean, they’re not supposed to generate turning thrust?”

No, it just goes forward and turns as you turn it.” The woman said surprised that this seemed like an alien concept.

“You mean... just by friction?” he asked, peering at a wheel with bemusement, “I guess... right.”

“And the steering wheel.” Levanna said as she gestured. “That is acceleration, there’s the break, and that’s the steering wheel. This is what you use to drive. That is the gear shift… Are you following me, here lads?”

“Gear shift? I thought it controlled thrust. Like a throttle. You mean there’s gears in this thing?” Sherin asked.

“There are! It’s what the stick here does. It works quite well, and it seems to be very nice to control if you use them rightly. See it’s even an automatic car, it says what each one of these gears do. This is reverse, park, gear one, gear two, and see isn’t it nice, all right there so you can see it, but you are not going to drive it or so help me, the kid and I are walking.” Levanna said as Finn seemed to be utterly confused at the aggression that Levanna was speaking with.

“What is your major dysfunction?” The boy asked her as she seemed to sternly glare.

“Their DRIVING. It will kill us both.” The woman said with a fury.

“Yeah, I’ve never driven a groundcar that’s quite so... antique,” Sherin said, with a slightly embarrassed luck, “You mean they’re all like this?”

“Yes, yes they are. The Cantalviani cars are perhaps more modern, but these are the cars we deal with, ours are the ones we deal with.” The woman said with a panicked expression. “These are typical, and they are similar throughout the continent unless you deal with the Westland Hovercars. In such a case they operate like boats, not cars.”

“Technically aircraft I think,” Sherin said, “ours certainly do.”

“Yes, yes, but these are like… they are not going to work like things you have at home… whatever they are. These are cars!” She said as she pointed. “I will teach you how to use one, what do you say?”

“Err, I say you can drive it.”

“Good man, I knew you could see reason!” She said as she kissed Sherin on the cheek and reached for his keys and prepared to open the car and unlock the doors, which had been left unlocked, to put the key in the ignition but saw that it was not there. “How did you turn this car on?” She asked as she seemed to examine it curiously. “Did you hotwire this thing?”

“Requisitioned,” Sherin said, slipping a cylindrical device into the lock and twisting it, something that seemed to form a key in-situ.

“You have a skeleton key then. I see, I will need that dear, hop in and I’ll get us back. We’re heading back to the Mansion, right?” She asked as she wondered if they had another place in mind.

“Yeah, we’ve some time to kill. The man we were looking for won’t be out of surgery for a while.”

“So, you don’t mind wandering about or joyriding then in this… requisitioned vehicle then?” She asked as Finn seemed to somehow not like the idea, he would rather stay out of sight, as he was likely to not make good friends with people now that they thought him a snitch.

“I am not entirely sure I would like that very much. I mean…I’ve not things to do here, I mean… well I can imagine you guys have more things to do in town, but I will just hamper your efforts won’t I? Shouldn’t I go wait at the house where there are a lot of necron guards?”

Than looked at Levanna, “Have you any particular errand you want to run?” he asked.

“Errand? Hmm… now that you mention it, I could think of a few errands I could get done. Yes, errands. Want to come with?” She asked coyly as Finn seemed to shrink a little. “I think I will walk home, I’m sure it won’t be that much trouble.” He said as he pulled on his hooded jacket over his horns.

“You certainly won’t, we’ll drop you off first, and I will stay with you,” Javert said.

“You will? I mean… of course you will, you’re a stand up guy. I knew I could count on you.” Finn said playfully as he pulled his hood down. “Well, we can at least take our time so we don’t have to worry about things until we go back to the C’tan where you come from. You guys come from a hot place or a cold place there?”

“Ah, the domains of the C’tan Empire are vast,” Than said, “I come from a world across the galaxy, called Karlack, where it rains and snows and the waters are deep and cold, and highlands roll upward in stony, wind-blasted magnificence.

“In my homeland, the sun is revered, and the heat is like the Oryon Desert, cold as a stone at night, and hotter than furnaces in the red lands in the day,” Sherin said.

“I have no home yet,” Javert said, simply enough.

“Me neither, so you’re on the same boat as me then. Where would you want to live if you had a choice?” Finn asked as he climbed in the car with Javert in the back seat. “I mean you seem to have your head on right, so you must have some idea of what kind of home you’d like.”

“For now, a housing unit in the prison is enough,” Javert said, “what I want is work. Somewhere to be of use,” he said.

“I suppose I understand that feeling.” Finn said as the woman began to rev the car up and she took time to wait for the others to climb in and as they did she smoothly cruised the streets and cleanly drove the car steadily following traffic as she pulled back into the mansion and as she did Finn let out an enormous sigh of relief. He didn’t seem to show it much, but he certainly was afraid. “But… people say that there’s a feeling you get, when you know you’ve a home. Since I haven’t felt that way since I was born, I always felt like an outsider, so I am wondering what gave you that feeling the most, I suppose then since you haven’t found that place, you are like me, wandering, wandering, not quite finding that place. It’s good to know I am not alone.”

“There is no shortage of places, I’ve been looking at several,” the C’tani Tiefling said, sitting scrunched up to accomodate his horns, muscular tail making him sit kind of sideways, “There is a planet called Amarah, with six moons, that I have considered, they rise in three different directions.”

“That sounds beautiful. I’ve not expected some places like that to exist.” The boy said with a longing sound in his voice. “But I don’t know. I’ve not any idea what C’tan is really like, just that it’s not here.” He said as Levanna parked the car.

“Well, can’t leave this to fate can I? Is there a map where I can just coin flip and point where I might be able to say ‘Ah, this is a choice at least’? Or will the C’tan suggest a place for me to go?” Finn asked Javert as he climbed out. As he did, Levanna smirked looking at the pair of handsome men in the rearview mirror. She planned to be happily making other prostitutes in town jealous as she seemed to have handsome rich patrons with a rather nice car. She lead the pair to a beautiful ale house where she would park the car and seem to gesture to them to follow, she didn’t seem to have errands in a specific way and she seemed to pass her purse to Sherin who she took with her to the bar.

“Wait here for me, I have to talk with the girls here for a bit.” She said not realizing that she had unexpectedly lead Than and Sherin to yet another whorehouse, and as she headed to the downstairs brothel, they would note that there was another pimp there altogether who turned them away from the main brothel doors.

“Employees and staff only.” One of the gruff looking guards said as Levanna waved. “It’ll be just a second!”

Sherin sighed, “Really, really now?” he asked, waving his cane agitatedly at the pimp, “You don’t even ask what our errand is, what kind of doorman are you?”

“A well paid one. What, you want a different answer?” The man asked. “SCRAM.” He said as he seemed to let another woman pass, carrying no card or identification. She didn’t even have her name asked.

“Listen, good man,” Than said, “we’re here for the special services do you understand me?”

“Special Services you say? I cannot hear this nonsense, either you have business in here or you don’- Hello ma’am, please enjoy yourself.” The man said as he welcomed another woman inside. “This ain’t a public service lad.”

Than took out a phone, or what looked like one, and began dialing on it.

The guard looked over at Than and seemed to be uncomfortable for a moment and took a breath as he looked over at Than. “What are you doing?”

“Hello, this is Adhil Than of House Suhbekhar, I need to speak to the duty staff,” he said. “Yes, cross me through for voice recognition... Elthirashnaduxan.”

“Hm?” The man seemed to not recognize what on earth the man was speaking, and who he was speaking to, but took a moment to clearly fiddle with his fingers as another woman entered.

“I need the electrical supply for, where are we my dear?” he asked Levanna.

“I was going to get inside and see if I could talk with Groferei and once I am done I will have to look for Leandra.” She said as she looked over and massaged Than’s shoulders. “Just a moment.” She said as she stepped aside and playfully hit him on his backside and was talking with one of the men for a moment and she took the wallet and removed a few bills and passed it to the pimp. He seemed to be offended and said something out of Than and Sherin’s earshot to Levanna and she shouted. “That is such bullshit.” before she got slapped.

“Do you mind, I’ve bloody well paid for that,” Than said, “Levanna dear, what’s the address here?”

“It is one five seven waybrook avenue.” The woman said as she rubbed her cheek furiously.

“What, so you are attempting to haggle with my property?” The pimp said with a raised eyebrow. Levanna didn’t seem pleased for Than to hear such, as she imagined that he would most certainly tell the police which would cause problems.

“Property, your property?” Than asked, and put the phone away, “You cannot be serious!” Sherin’s hand moved to his gun.

“What you have a problem, pretty boy?” The pimp asked as he seemed to look down on Than, not noticing Sherin was reaching for his weapon.

“Let’s get this clear, you’re saying Levanna belongs to you, to do what you want to?” Than asked, flexing his fingers.

“What, do you think because you paid her for an hour that she’s yours? You’re sorely mistaken lad. Levanna is mine, and if I wanted to do something with her, I could.” He said as Levanna looked away in horror.

“Let’s just leave.” Levanna said with a sigh. “He’s not being reasonable today.”

“Bitch, you owe me money and no amount of muscle is going to have this disappear. Do you hear me. I want my money.”

“Are thirty million necrons sufficient?” Than asked, hand resting on the hilt of his sword, drawing it in a single motion, as Sherin did likewise with his sidearm.

“Oh you are shitting me. Rufus kill these motherfuckers.” The pimp said as his bodyguard raised his weapon. “You got five minutes to get out now.”

Sherin shot Rufus with a single trigger pull of semi-automatic fire from the proximity-detonating bolter-weapon without even a blink of hesitation. The pimp was astonished from the speed by which his bodyguard was dispatched and then he looked over at the pair of men and seemed to be a bit aware of his situation a bit more.

“Er...so… about those thirty million necrons… you weren’t… serious were you?” The man asked recognizing now the use of the C’tani weapon.

“I am a C’tani. If I need a soldier, there are thirty million or more. If I need a doctor, there are a hundred million, and if I need a policeman, there are even more. Now, let’s see... you just admitted to being a slaver so...”

“So…. BYE NOW.” He said as he bolted away from the C’tani. Levanna was already shocked from the first man being shot dead and she was shoved out of the way so that the pimp could make a break for it.

Sherin didn’t even move his feed, shifting almost like a tank turret to aim at the ground in front of the man; the powerful explosive bolts turning the ground into a series of explosions with whizzing chips of stone like shrapnel in front of him.

The shrapnel tore through the pimp like a bursting of grotesque confetti and the woman seemed to look astonished as she stepped carefully behind Sherin, afraid of the weapons completely.

“What is that thing?” She asked as she seemed to shudder in fear.

“Huh, I’d been hoping he’d survive,” the man said, “Further away next time,” he said, frowning, putting the gun away. “Do you know who’ll inherit your debt to that guy?” he asked, as Than calmly walked over to the perforated pimp and stabbed him through the chest; and then in the neck, suspecting the fellow might still be alive and wanting to put him down quicker, flicking the power-field on the sword off and then wiping the blade with a handkerchief.

“Reminds me of gutting fish,” Than said, casually as he looked at the blood he was tracking across the street.

“Okay, everyone in the building, we have you surrounded, come out in an orderly fashion, any attempt to resist will be met with force!” Sherin shouted, as Than sighed, and called Sarintel again, touching the implant on the back of his ear reflexively as he did. As he did there seemed to be a bit of unease as the personnel quickly attempted to take their weapons and discarded them so that they could try and surrender peacefully. There were a pair who holed themselves upon in a room with a pair of pistols but they didn’t seem too intent on fighting back, as they were more afraid than anything else.

The C’tani waited for the guards to surrender, and more importantly their reinforcements to arrive, who, naturally, actually entered the building; the two who hid were treated to a necron instead of the squishy organic frames of Than and Sherin.

They fired wildly at the necrons, not caring whether they hit them or each other, which of course led to the hilarious situation where one of the guards shot the other, but not dead, the second man wailed in agony on the floor from the pain of the bullet which shattered his arm. His weapon fell to the ground uselessly and the other guard closed his eyes and fired even more frantically at the Necrons.

Naturally, they clobbered him and dragged him out. One of them reflecting that more Alteans had killed each other trying to escape necrons than had actually been killed by necrons. Hilariously enough there was much more attrition caused by Alteans against Alteans than anywhere near equating to the amount of Alteans killed by one another. From where the quality of life improved under the C’tani Regency, there was still backwards terribly off things about aspects of Altean society. Levanna understood these facets and stood outside by the door waiting for Than and Sherin, still choking from the sickening feeling of seeing a man splattered by shrapnel. She waited for the necrons to come outside as she tried to calm herself down. She took a moment to look embarrassedly at the C’tani gentlemen and cleared her throat.

“I’m sorry… That...it… it was unexpected.” Levanna said as she leaned against the wall, her knees weak. “That you could come there and save me like that. It’s… thank you.” Levanna blushed as she attempted to calm herself down. “This must happen with you guys all the time. Sometimes I wonder if you guys are some sort of...team of vigilante heroes or something. Trouble seems to avert its head around you, and you sort of just spit in it’s face.”

“First day actually,” Than said, “at least, as vigilantes. We do other things, naturally enough,” he added. “Like we said to that guy, it comes from being pretty much certain the world’s got your back.”

“This is your first day here?” Levanna asked with her pitch rising, indicating a sense of genuine surprise. “Huh, well I know you mentioned before you were tourists, but even that surprised me. You guys do seem to oddly enough… fit in rather well.” Levanna said as she took her finger and nervously twirled a lock of her dark curly hair in her finger. “Maybe in a strange sense, that’s why I feel so comfortable around you two. Your friend is a little… strange though.”

“He was only recently reborn, but we needed people with relevant experience and I think he got bored of the counseling...” Sherin said.

[The Ctan]

“Not our first day here, our first day as ‘vigilantes’ I’ve been here a couple of weeks, with the second wave occupation forces...” he said, “We’re actually prison guards. Well, jail guards. Technically I’m a parole officer but frankly there’s enough work to do here that anyone who’s authorised to do any kind of interview is needed... we’re off duty now though.”

“Oh you poor things, and you come all the way to Mordovia, and end up in this shithole of a city? I pity you in a way. All the places and you end up in the gutter… wouldn’t you have wanted to go to a beautiful place like the Imperial City? Suld? Drakenspire? Some places where there is beauty everywhere?” She asked wondering if they were like her, a lost stray cat who was dragged to a place she would rather never have been dragged to.

“There is beauty here,” Sherin said, looking at Levanna, “as much as there is anywhere.”

“Perhaps if you squint your eyes.” She said with a playful laugh. “But I was going to check here, to see something. Some of the other girls have said, that they did not come by choice, but because their families are being threatened. I wasn’t threatened in the same way, so I wanted to see if I could find something out about it. The problem is that the only people who I know are in the underworld, and they’re the only ones who could tell me anything about it.”

“We’ll help if we can,” Than said, “you only have to ask.”

“Hmm...let’s see. I’ve a pair of handsome heroes attempting to help a lot of distressed damsels. I can see what I can do, but I’m not the best Heroine you could ask for. Even then, let’s see what I can do…” Levanna said as she adjusted her bodice for a moment and tied her stays a bit tighter. “I can think of a few people I can encourage to give us more information, but if something goes wrong, it could go very, very wrong. Can I count on you to have my back?” She asked as she seemed to find this idea less than ideal.

“Of course you can. Is it any of these guys? Because we’re already taking them in...” Than said gesturing to the prisoners, “if so, they’ll talk.”

“I was hoping I could get from them a bit of information on a man who is connected with one of the crime syndicates in the Western Town from here. I don’t know if they know anything, but I knew this place was one of those terrible seedy places were some syndicate members hang about.”

“Okay, I’ll find you one,” Than said, “wait here...” he said, walking towards the necrons guarding the prisoners being strapped onto another prison transport, “Okay, you shits,” Than said, “it turns out we’re one space short...” he said, gesturing to the prison transport.

“Wha-WAIT! What do you mean?” One of the beaten and bruised men asked he seemed to worry about its implications.

“Its your lucky day though normally I’d be happy to have a corpse out of you, but they’re being anal about the number of dead Tor bastards I produce, and I’m well over quota, so I’m going to come back in five minutes, and I want you lot to have decided amongst yourselves which of you gets to go free, the lucky fucker. Bye for now bitches!” he said, walking off back to Levanna. The logic was simple, if there was a criminal gang involved they’d either intimidate or bribe the others into nominating the most senior of their number. He expected them to start fighting too. There was arguing for a moment before one of the men looked over at them, and he snapped his fingers and they immediately silenced.

“It’s quite simple, we will let Erison go, and that is the end of the discussion, and once we are done with that, we will see if we can get a lawyer to get us out of this situation. They have nothing on us, and those who resisted arrest are dead, or so fucked up they can’t talk anyway.”

Than restrained the urge to laugh at their optimism, word had got around that there were lawyers to be had, and the natives had taken to the notion that a sufficiently good lawyer could immunize you against the law like some sort of foreign TV show. “You bastards picked yet?” he said, wandering back.

“Erison shall be freed.” One of the younger men said gesturing to the older man who snapped. “He is the least guilty among us and doesn’t deserve to be here.” The young man lied.

“Alright, Erison, come with me,” he said, looking for the fellow.

The man looked at Than with a dispassionate expression as he stepped forward and the others among his number bowed their heads in respect as he passed. He approached Than with his hand extended. “Thank you, Ser.”

“This way, some quick questions first,” Than said, leading him back to Sherin and Levanna, “this nice lady has some important questions for you,” he said. She looked nervous for a moment and looked at the ground, as she spoke rather quietly.

“Maestro, can you please tell me where I can possibly find a man named Jethro, as I have heard that he is involved with a group of Prostitutes I work with, and I wanted to see if I could make contact with them.” Levanna said as he looked at her with a puzzled expression.

“Jethro doesn’t run with my people, but I know of who you speak. I would say that if you wanted to find what you’re looking for, go to the old abandoned temple, and see if you can meet a revered mother named Terithia, and ask her to get you in contact with Jethro.”

“Th-Thank you Maestro.” She said as she looked over at Sherin with a calmer expression.

“Good man, now, back to the others,” Than said, “I think I miscounted before...” he said with a transparent lack of sincerity.

“Forgetful, are you?” Erison said with a cold expression. “C’tani have terrible memories. It’s a pity.” He walked toward the transport and frowned back at Levanna.

“Don’t look at her, in fact, bag him and the others please,” he said to one of the necrons, who began to, predictably, put bags on the Alteans’ heads, “I think we shall have to recommend a full interrogation for these guys,” he said, absentmindedly wishing he had the flair for beating that Javert did.

The necrons shoved Erison back with another group, shoving a bag onto his head, that tightened quite immobilizingly and was almost suffocating, though somehow permeable. The men seemed to think that perhaps they were being garotted right off, but were surprised that they were able to breathe, despite the shocking pressure. The younger man shouted out in surprise. As they were taken, Levanna seemed to calm down quite a bit.

“Wasted… At least we have something to go on. Maybe if we’re lucky, this Terithia can help us get toward the underworld just close enough to find where they’re holding their families.” The girl said as she seemed to be relieved that the criminals were out of sight. “Sometimes I think that I get a little too nervous around people like that. It’s not like I have forgotten what I do.”

“Don’t worry too much about them, I’m pretty sure Moira will clear the whole bunch for mind-scrubbing the last couple of hours for witness protection purposes,” Than said, “I’m not going to meet any Revered Mother tonight though, we should be getting back,” he said. “We’ve a whole lot of stuff to get organized. And I want to hand this off to a professional...”

“Already done more than enough for me, sweetheart. I’ll remember that for sure.” Levanna said playfully as she gently massaged his shoulder. “Now, are we going back to the house?”

“Yeah, need to pick up Javert and Finn, and talk to everyone there...” he said, “I take it you want to drive?”

“Absolutely, come along.” The girl said as she happily climbed into the driver’s seat and waited for them to climb in, and she carefully and smoothly drove toward the house once again. The girl waited for them to indicate if she was to return to the house or if she was to just wait in the yard. “So, you said you were going to talk with everyone?”

“Yeah, come on, you’re a person too,” Than said, as they walked up to the house, “Actually, before we get in, best ask you now. Do you want to come and stay with us and Finn for a bit? You can help with this thing about peoples’ families, and I think he’d like you to come for a bit, unfamiliar environment and so on.”

“I… would be happy to come along, if it’s not trouble.” Levanna said to Than with warmth. “Maybe I could also stash some of the things from the house as well, keep some things?”

“So long as it’s yours?” Sherin suggested, “or the former owner’s, I don’t think he’ll be coming back...”

“Even better!” Levanna said with a smile. “The chance that I can get a good thing to take with me on the road would be nice. Don’t want to merely look like a bloody harbor strumpet, even if it’s what I am.” She said with a lowering of her tone.

“That’s not what you are,” Sherin said, “and certainly not what you have to be.”

“I can think of things I can do, but goodness knows at least maybe I can fine myself up a bit, I might be able to be one of those girls they get clothes on and show it off on the runways. All refined-like. Maybe I can do it...” The woman said with a quiet trailing off. “I’m only fooling myself aren’t I? Maybe I’m just better off as a… a housekeeper?”

“You’d be amazed what you can do in the right circumstances, everyone is,” Sherin said as they arrived.

The girl entered the house and began to head toward her room and removed a few outfits, normal ones, and a few for pleasure. They were of course in traditional Tor style and she took a few Qagleneki dresses, finding that they were rather cute, and good for housekeeping chores as well. She looked over and waited to see what Than was going to say among the other Prostitutes.

“Hello everyone, could you all gather round for a while I need to ask some quick questions and talk about some issues, and the beastlings too if you could,” he said, waiting until they did so, with the bare minimum of crowd cajoling, “Firstly, you folk,” he said, looking at the beastlings, “do you come from Crystal Spires or Altea?” he asked.

“There are some that were born here, some who were born as D'hɑlbrisir. It is a mixed bunch. I had to teach some of them Common, but I was born in these lands. The people of the West are the ones who speak the D'rɑgolɛthic tongue.”

“Okay, could you ask your comrades; where do you all want to be? You don’t have to decide right away, but either we can move you to a safe area to rest up, or we can try and rush you through to Crystal Spires as soon as possible if you want.”

“I would like to go home.” One of the younger men said tired. “Please, take me home. I’m tired.” The young wolfling said in broken up common.

“Right, where abouts do you come from?” he asked.

“My home is in Bael, the City of Sardoc. It’s the last place I remember I have a home. People who care about me. I don’t know if they miss me though.” The young man said with a slightly defeated tone of voice. “Do you think my family will recognize me?”

“Of course,” he said, “We’ll probably be able to get you home tomorrow, but you need to stay here tonight so that we can keep you safe,” he said, “Is that okay with all of you?”

“Mmm… haj, should be fine.” The older man said as he put his hand on the younger boy’s shoulder. “What’s one more day?”

“I’ll try and fix up the phones here before I leave so you can call people you know,” Than said before looking to the larger group of prostitutes, “Pretty much the same for all of you, but with Altea being what it is, it might be harder to get some of you home,” he said, “I’ve been told that they’re holding some of your families,” he said, “we’re going to be doing what we can to find them and reunite you, but I can’t make any promises.”

“There were…rumors, are the people of D'hɑlbrisir… were they really murdered en masse like the news said it was? I want to know the truth. I know we’ve been… sometimes tortured with lies, but there are some people who have told us that… that it’s true.”

“Not really, there were some border towns razed but we massacred most of the Santrov people who were doing it...” he said, “I can’t promise your families weren’t hurt, but it’s no greater a risk than the local wildlife would have been over the same time period.”

“Then it is a massive relief. I had worried it was much messier with the way people had been describing it here. They relish in the opportunity to tell us of those monsters murdering our families, and saying that the spread was far and wide, knowing what the Alteans were capable of did not help.” The boy said with a sigh of relief.

“And you ladies?” Than said, “and gents, what about you?” he asked the prostitutes, “are you okay with staying here for a while until we sort you out and can be sure you’re safe?”

“Don’t mind much.” One of the male prostitutes said with a smile. “So long as we aren’t in trouble, it’s good enough for me?” He seemed to be almost questioning himself for a moment.

“But sure, why not?” A girl said with a calm flomp on one of the luxurious beds. “Should be a nice change, at least. Being safe and all.”

“Okay, can I have a quick show of hands among the prostitutes, who here was taken from their previous lives against their will?” he sounded improperly jaunty, he reflected with a from, “I mean kidnapped.”

There were a healthy amount of children who rose their hands, and a great amount of younger women and the older women sighed. “Does it even matter much anymore? No one will miss me anymore.” One of them said as she rose her hand.

“Of course that’s a possibility, but wouldn’t you like to know? And even if they did, there’s no way things will get worse for you, with us looking out for you.”

“I suppose there’s no loss then.” The older woman said as she raised her hand as well, slightly defensively. “But… what if something bad happens to our family back home now that we’re released from bondage?”

“That’s part of why it’s important we know who your families are, so that we can find out what’s happened to them and how to keep them safe,” he said.

“Sure, then how will we do that?” The woman asked a bit doubtfully. “I am hoping it’s going to be something that is useful, like sciency things, because in some of our cases… well in my case, I’ve forgotten what my name used to be.”

“Torturing pimps mostly,” Than said, inwardly wincing at that notion, “but of course anything that you can tell us is useful...” he said, taking a scroll-like device of flexible metal from his pocket, rolling it out onto a table, and tapping it briefly, his fingertips causing it to change, splitting along one side into feather-like blades that curved upward, “I’d like everyone to take it in turns to stand in front of me here, say your name, if you can remember it, and hold out your hand, like this,” he said, holding his hand out, a green line appearing on it, and a small image of him appearing next to the fan-like form the feathers had settled into. The numerous prostitutes began to tell him, name after name. Some of them remembering subtle details about places and locations. Others remembering persons and vague locations, but some that were specific enough to include a city name and person names.

The more terrifying things they recounted were their abductions and how they had attempted to escape from bondage, and were ‘taught’ to behave, trained and tortured before becoming refined enough to being trusted in the pimp’s custody. He would dress them up in finery, take care of their welfare, and receive the blood money if one of them was hurt or killed. One of the prostitutes recounted the death of another prostitute in terrifying detail as skin crawling torture was described using disgustingly obscene methods against weaker persons who were not permitted to resist. Others would describe prostitutes having sickness and going mad after the lesions burned away at their skin, the painful sickness making them no longer useful. They would be ejected and disassociated from the Teahouse and would be cut off from pay and board. From which that point, they would be sick and without recourse for help. Some of the women and boys just withered away, starved to death, found with sunken skin along the docks, discarded like trash. Others would go mad and attempt to kill others, to take them with them. It did not go well, however when their fury was met with the dispassionate lethality of the Town Guard.

The Prostitutes also recounted their fear of the town guard, the feeling that they would never really be able to trust them with their lives, because they were not important enough to merit action if they were harmed. The women would recount having been beaten and mugged on the street, with no one coming to their aid, no matter how loudly nor how desperate their cries were. They were whores, so they didn’t matter. The Guard would even tell them on occasion to take their problems somewhere else, and to stop creating a ruckus in public. A few prostitutes recalled they had police records of public disorderly conduct, as they had screamed for help, and when the pub owners called for help, rather than arrest the man or woman committing assault, they would arrest the prostitute for causing significant trouble and promoting domestic disturbances. They were the whores and homewreckers, so they were always the problem. They remembered the conditions in the jails, sometimes they would have to sleep with the guards to get released, or they would be forgotten. To Than’s horror, they would simply laugh and say ‘Bygones be bygones’ with regards to this horrible conduct, and didn’t seem to take it personally.

“They merely wanted to sample the goods for free, they’re policemen. If a bribe’s what they want, I got no money, so I give them what I got.” A young boy said with a smile. “Why? You want to have a go?” He asked as he reached for his belt.

“No, thank you,” Than said, attempting to remain dispassionate, or at least, to conceal his shock and look sympathetic. Javert failed utterly, and seemed to be wanting to shoot the Town Guard five minutes into the first such tale, while Sherin was the only one that actually suppressed his responses to the corruption.


“That’s not how we work,” Sherin said, in a tone of helpfulness.

“I’ve some experience, so I could make you have a good time, but perhaps you’re not interested in me because I’m a boy, I can talk with Sister Haria, I’m sure she and a few others could make it worth your while. It’s the least we can do, you know?”

“But if you are going to keep off from that kind of thing, I recommend you be careful, right? Town Guard can be troublesome. Haven’t killed anyone yet though this week, I suppose this is a good thing. I suppose it’s because we’ve been getting less sick with the new policies. They gave us health insurance, you know? Shocking thing to happen.”

“I’ll say.” One of the women said with a worried expression. “Sondra was getting sick, and I think she’s on medicine now. Should be okay to go back into work by next week even. Won’t even need to be thrown out.”

“I’m genuinely flattered, thank you, but no,” Than said.

“Is she here?” Sherin asked as Than uploaded the testimony and genetic profiles collected so far.

“I’m here… do you need to speak with me about something?” Sondria asked as she looked over at the trio with her dark violet colored eyes and she took her finger and pulled her long red hair over her ear. She seemed to be nervous. “I’m… not dying or anything.”

“May I ask how you are anyway?” he said, “I’m a healer,” he added, nodding to Finn, whose story had probably gotten around by now.

“I… am doing much, much, better.” The girl said flattered with their worry. “They said I wouldn’t go mad or anything. It’s really neat.” She said as she crossed her arms uncomfortably. “This said, um… I still have marks and I am still on medicine.”

“May I have a look at your medication?” he asked. He wasn’t too worried about her, from the look of her, but you never knew, with Altea, if it was the real deal or some kind of unregistered experimental drug.

“Uh, sure here you are.” She said as she handed a bottle of anti-biotics to the C’tani, and it seemed to be made from a local producer, which of course raised suspicion of its chemical makeup.

“Can I borrow one of these pills? I’ll get you more from our stores tomorrow,” he said.

“Sure, that’s more than reasonable. So long as I am still taking them. I am supposed to keep taking them for a few days, otherwise the sickness can come back and get worse. On a clinical trial, I am.”

“Always finish the course, yes,” he said, as his suspicions were duly confirmed. Someone to arrest tomorrow, no doubt,

“Of course, but I hope that will help, are you sick?” She asked with a glimpse that indicated concern.

“Not at all, it’s just always worth checking these things. We might have something better.”

“Oh, Ok. But won’t this damage my candidacy in the clinical trials?” The girl asked as she leaned over the little boy’s shoulder. He seemed to like this and lay back into Sondra. She gave the boy a hug and watched Than with curiosity. “So what exactly will be done from here?”

“Well, we’ve arranged for some other guards to stay with you folks along with the necrons, we’ve got to get back home to report on all this, and frankly, get some sleep...” Than said.

“Alright.” Sondra said as she approached the boy, and pat him on the head. “Go and nap, it’s been a long day, sweetheart.”

“Do I have to share a bed with the beastmen? They don’t seem to have places where they can rest.”

“I’m sure you guys can sort yourselves out,” he said, “Don’t forget the pimp’s rooms, if you’ve some overflow.”

“Very well, but what are we going to do about them if we don’t have enough room still? Should we see if we can make makeshift beds from the blanket piling?” Levanna asked as she imagined they could probably also make clothes piles if necessary.

“Well you’re coming with us to help with the report anyway,” he said to Levanna, “but I’m sure someone can sort something out,” he said, as the sound of a vehicle opening outside suggested the guards he’d mentioned had arrived.

“Alright then, let’s head out and … who is driving us?” The girl asked stunned with fear for a moment, remembering the terrifying ride. “Is Finn coming with us?”

“Yeah, I’ll drive,” Sherin said, stepping outside, pausing to talk to the guards who’d arrived a group of six in all.

Finn stepped out and looked at Levanna who was pale chalk white in terror. He was not happy with this idea, but he was at least glad if he was going to die in an accident he would at least have less regrets on his mind.

“Alright then… Okay, where are we off to?” Finn asked as he looked up to Sherin and then looked over at Than.

Sherin paused, taking out a global of a less sophisticated make than the one Than had used.

“Greythorn Jail, the staff quarters, of course,” Than said.

“Greythorn Jail? Right, you’re a-a bounty hunter type, I forgot, a jail guard who looks after the people attempting to skip off punishment and the like. So how far away is it from here?” Finn asked as he hoped they could be able to walk instead.

“About forty miles,” Than said, “and not a bounty hunter, I was just looking for one of the criminals out here... a bit of a personal issue.”

“Hoh? What kind of criminal? Maybe I can help you out. I know quite a few criminals… well, because of the nature of my work and contacts...I, hope this isn’t a problem. I can give you a hand if you need it, you’ve helped me so it’s the least I can do.”

“Got him, the fence fellow, from before,” Than said, as an aircraft of some sort truned toward them circling the area in the night-darkness. Finn followed Than and wondered which car they were taking, and he seemed to stick as close as possible, as he hated to admit it, but he was still quite afraid that he’d get hurt again. His day had been very distressing.

“So you’re all set to go then?” Finn asked as he seemed to keep his eye trained on the aircraft.

A small spotlight shone down from it, and it descended, a sleek and black vehicle, almost square in places, obviously intended to take a beating, with some kind of turret on its upper roll-bar. It settled to the ground by the side of the road quite neatly.

“Now you’ll see driving,” Sherin said.

“Whoa… What is THAT?” Finn asked as he seemed to be stunned by its strangeness and he wondered where he was supposed to sit.

“It’s a Guv, here,” he said, opening up the door at the middle of its side, the rear section a flat cargo area with long, shutter-doors instead, “Leva and Javert, in the back,” he said.

Levanna sat beside Javert and looked over at him with a curious expression. “What kind of machine is this? I’ve not seen such a thing before. Is it anything like a…like how he drives regular cars?” The girl asked with her hand clenched into a fist.

“Apparently not,” Javert said, as Than got in the passenger seat and Sherin sat down in the empty driver’s seat, flicking a switch and doing something on a touch-screen control before pulling a lever and doing something with his other hand, levitating them smoothly into the air. Finn sighed with relief as he closed his eyes and lay against his seat, his shoulders less tense than before as he realized that he was unlikely to end up smashed about.

They shot out across the town, gaining altitude minute by minute, Than keeping an eye on several other systems, mainly in case someone tried to shoot them down. In a few minutes they were out over the countryside. “Want to see something cool?” Sherin asked.

“Show me.” Finn asked as Levanna was feeling a tad nauseated, but perhaps was afraid of heights.

The world flipped upside down outside; which was to say it didn’t feel like they were flying upside down, but the whole environment cartwheeled around them until the sky was down and the land up.

“W-What just happened?” The boy asked as he looked over at the screen and he seemed to be utterly amused by the insanely awesome display. “Did we actually flip over?”

“Yeah. We don’t really feel most of the motion in here,” he said, spinning around in a dizzying manner.

“So we’re barrel rolling through the sky, and we can’t even feel it at all?” He asked as he looked at Levanna who instinctively grabbed whatever she could, still feeling like the concept terrified her, but feeling oddly disjointed, as if it was a movie and the camera was flipping over rather than the room itself.

“Yeah,” he said, finally putting them the right way up and back on course to their destination, passing above the clouds. “I can drive this, no problem. And that, Levanna, is inertial compensators in action.”

“It feels like we’re watching a movie on a TV screen, that is spinning about, spinning spinning, but we’re not moving at all, but we are, so it’s so strange to me. Is it normal to not feel like you’re moving at all?”

“Usually you’ll not be doing any extreme manouvers and it won’t kick in so much,” he said, tapping the touch-screen again, “But I had it jacked right up there,” he said, turning it down a bit, and it felt suddenly as if they were in motion, seeming to start moving from stationary, though not especially quick. “There we are, Greythorn Jail,” he said, pointing at a rambling pile of grey and green in the distance, covering several farm fields, a derelict house poking up at one end toward the road.

Levanna steadied herself as she felt a lot more relief knowing she was on the ground, and she let out a sigh in relief. Just as she reached towards the area where the doorway was, Finn carefully waited for Sherin and Than and Javert to step out before following behind them.

“Eirin Greythorn Jail, huh? It looks… much less terrifying than I thought. Is the gallows here or in the back, I wonder” Finn said aloud. “Always thought that I’d end up in that situation, but now I’m kind of relieved thinking it’s there.”

Than looked at the vehicle park, where the skeletal shapes of necron vehicles mixed with more mundane vehicles, mundane at least to him, “We don’t have a gallows, this is just the jail, we don’t do sentences out here...” he said, “If we needed to I think someone has a laser-guillotine somewhere in stores though.”

It was built out of endless piles of shipping containers, it seemed, and easily a hundred of those had been set up on one side, while concrete walls with an inverted T cross section stood dividing the prison up into different areas.

“Where do you usually work, Than?” The boy asked as he looked over toward the strange vehicles with curiosity. “I hope, not in there.”

“Humm? Depends what you mean? In the prison, yes, quite often, but I do have to go other places, too,” he said, heading toward an administration building made out of several dozen of the ubiquitous building blocks, some of them made of transparent-plastic on one or more facings, letting the carpeted and furnished interiors be seen through them.

“I meant more hanging around the prisoners who want to hurt you. Generally that would be a pretty nasty situation and could get ugly really quick. Is there no prison riots, prison breakouts?” Finn clarified.

“Not yet, of course, those happen in a lot of countries. But they’re unlikely here...” he said.

“So you should be safe for a while at least. That’s better at least. I thought that the place would be much gloomier inside.” The boy said as he looked over at Sherin. “Or is this only the visitor’s center?”

“This is where we hang out, yeah, over that wall,” he pointed to one of the concrete barriers, topped with something like razor-wire, “is where we keep the slavers. But it’s quite safe, there’s a minefield between those walls, and guards. And more.”

“A Minefield eh? It’s practically a base, if you put it that way. What’s the news on the slavers in there anyway? I kind of hardly expect that they’ll stay for long in there. I thought they’re supposed to die or something.”

“They get trials, this is where they are kept before they’re convicted, after that they’re sent on to the prison and shipped out to serve their sentence, which is either death, or lifetime deportation.”

"Lifetime deportation? What kind of punishment is that?"

“A very lenient one. One of my jobs is to make sure it is and remains a punishment. Just finished sorting out a placement to put a fellow called Raszler out on a labouring job in a glacier...”

“So how come there is lifetime deportation instead of having some sort of imprisonment for a long time, or hard labor or something?” Levanna asked, wondering if deportment was really a punishment, if it weren’t some sort of banishment.

“We don’t believe in long term imprisonment if we can avoid it. It’s still too good for the little fucker but that’s politics for you,” Than said, as they walked up to an office where a dark haired elven woman leaned out to look at the group. “If it’s any consolation he’ll be getting regular thrashings,” Than added.

“All hail the conquering heroes!” she said.

“Hah you did about as much as we did. Levanna, Finn, may I present Moriel nos Anarmacar, ‘Technician’ of the Internal Security Agency. She questions the prisoners, and also did our outfits and support from here.”

“Some of the support. You can’t say Sari didn’t help.”

“Quite,” Than said.

“Hello, Lady Moriel, might I say you look absolutely beautiful, is that outfit from here or from C’tan?” Levanna asked cordially, using her usual charming flattery.

She raised an eyebrow, “C’tan,” she said, “Come, let’s go to the common room,” she said, “I think you folks could probably use a drink.”

“A drink? Of course, I would love to share a drink.” Levanna said as she seemed to consider the C’tani friendly to offer a drink. Finn seemed eager to have a drink as well, regardless of not being the proper age.

The area she went to was a canteen, rather than a bar, and a self-service kind of setup, various appliances on the wall and chairs and tables set up through the room, there seemed to be no one in ther room, but it was an open area, with a sign up in the corner reading “GROUP COUNSELING TIMES” and several sessions below.

The elf took a kettle, putting it on, “What do you want? We’ve black and green tea, and chocolate. Even got some coffee somewhere.”

“Hmm? what kind of chocolate?” Levanna asked apprehensively.

“Awww, and here I thought there was going to be real drinks.” Finn said playfully patting Javert. “I’ll smuggle in some booze for you guys some time. It becomes clear why you all head off to Mordovia, we might not have the best people, but we’ve got the best booze.”

“Hah, Certainly not. We’ll have no smuggling here,” Javert said, sitting down, “one starts with small disorder and ends up with major crimes. I do not drink alcohol.”

“Hot chocolate?” Moriel said, “C’tani in fact, it’s quite well regarded...”

“I think I could go for some hot chocolate!” Levanna said warmly as Finn nervously laughed to himself. He was already feeling that comment that Javert made had a bit of a stinging bite, as he had already committed major crimes before, and didn’t think smuggling was a big deal. Apparently he was wrong.

“Hmm… Coffee.” Finn said tersely with distraction rattling his mind.

Sherin squeezed Finn’ shoulder briefly, “I on the other hand, do,” he said, as the elven lady came back with three teas, two chocolates and one coffee, something she had to read the label to try and figure out, looking quizzical at one point.

“Instant coffee... weird.”

“Has more caffeine! It’s really great. Have you had instant coffee before?” Finn asked, relieved that it wasn’t actually real coffee.

“I can’t recall ever having done so,” she said, “wouldn’t usually make it myself...” she added, setting the cup down in front of him.

“Do you have fake sugar?” Finn asked as he looked over at the woman carefully. “I know they say it gives you cancer, but it’s got a sort of addictive quality to it, and I don’t much like sugar in my instant coffee.”

“Let’s see... we’ve got something that’s supposed to make it healthier for necrontyr, and ahah, here we are, sweetener? That’s the stuff?”

“Hmmm… let’s see…” Finn took a package of sweetener and tried it alone without the coffee, and nodded his head, “I think this will work.” He said as he started to stir in about five packages in before looking for another one. “Hmm? Where is the…” He found another and stirred it in and began to drink it. Levanna seemed to tilt her head to the side as he drank it.

“How… do you drink that?” She asked wondering herself how he could stomach it.

“High energy metabolism perhaps?” Than asked, “Humm, hey, hold up a sec...”

“Don’t be an ass,” Sherin said, as Than went and looked through a pile of table shakers, picking something out, and putting it in front of the boy.

“Try this. Necrontyr grade sweetener. Same stuff, much, much stronger.”

The boy tore open the package of sweetener and tilted his head back as he deposited its whole contents onto his tongue. The taste was like having one’s teeth covered in sweet, sickening and sharp, throbbing, making his tongue pulse in time with his heartbeat. The boy’s eyes widened as he grasped his fist into a ball, and was hyperventilating for a moment, as he seemed to make a choking gasp, and he let out a nonsensical whimper for a moment before extending his hand out.

“C-Can… I have… another?” He asked as he was still hyperventilating.

“What? You’re only supposed to take a tiny shake of it!” he said, bemused, “You mean.. water, right? Or lemon juice or something?”

“That… was incredible. It was like no drug I have ever had before… I want. another… please. It won’t kill me on a second shot will it?” He asked as he seemed to still be holding his hand out.

“Mmm, it’s not a drug, it’s just... really strong .And no, you shouldn’t have too much of it, it’ll make your pee burn.”

“Take too much and it’ll burn your liver up if you let it become a habit,” Sherin said.

“Ah, so it is a drug then. If it kills away my liver then it is probably a drug and not, say, sugar. That’ll just make me fat.” The boy said as he slightly twitched his eyebrow. “Dear gods that is sweet. I feel like I could eat a whole chili pepper and still have it taste like a candybar.”

“No, it’s food, it’s just not for human consumption,” Sherin said, “or Tiefling, for that matter.”

“Have I been poisoned then? Heh, I must have ticked Than off.” Finn said with a cheerful smile. “Maybe...but I would say it is a good prank. Well played. It reminds me of that time I played a joke on one of my masters, I gave him a bit of D'hɑlbrisirian pepper that was the size of a thumbnail. Spiciest thing ever. The thing made him cry like a baby.”

“You won’t get sick from that much. You’ll probably regret it if you eat say, six or seven of those packets.”

“I will be tasting sugar for a week though, I’d imagine.” Finn laughed from still feeling the high, and he sipped away his instant coffee which tasted ungodly sweet.

“After a couple of hours I think you’ll stop noticing,” Than said, as he sat down, “So, you guys want the grand tour?”

“I certainly would, show us around!” Levanna said as she seemed to consider it quite unusual. It didn’t seem much like any prison she had seen before. They were usually dull places for the people within it, and torture for people who were imprisoned in it.

“You should drink that first,” Moriel said, nodding to the hot chocolate.

“Sounds alright.” She said as she sipped the chocolate. She thought it was rather silky and rich. Richer than she had ever had before. She had not often had good chocolate, but she did imagine that her memory failed to measure up to this chocolate in the slightest.

“Good?” Moriel asked, a little while later.

“It’s better than any chocolate I have ever had before, for sure.” Levanna explained, though she was not wealthy enough to get good chocolate anyhow.

“Okay, may I?” Sherin asked, when she was done, collecting the drinks and putting them in a washer nearby.

“There’s only so much we can show you here, some of this stuff is restricted of course, but we can show you the control room, and some other bits,” Moriel said.

“Restricted? So there are secret shenanigans that occur here? Are they fun, do they involve sex, and a plunger?” Finn asked as he managed to follow behind.

“Nothing like that. It’s much less exciting than it sounds,” Moriel said, as they passed a briefing room, and walked into a control room, with several metal pillars holding up rows of monitors along one wall, showing views from watch-towers and scrolling between the interiors of cells, in night vision.

“Oooh what’s this?” Finn asked as he examined the screens, he seemed to be oddly confused by their colors and was not sure if it was one way or a two way camera. “So we can see into their cells?”

One of the staff sat behind the control board grinned, “Yeah. Can even talk to them if you want, want to see the new arrivals?” he asked, hitting a few controls, bringing up the dozens of screens showing the various pimps and customers who’d been brought in in the last hour.

“Huh, that’s… rather impressive. I wonder where my master is.” The boy asked as he looked over at the Moira and he smiled. “I know he’s not my master anymore, but I hardly know his real name.”

“Cell two seven six, I think,” the fellow said, calling up an image of a crate with four bunks in it along one wall and various men inside it.

“Hiya Master. I hope things are not too shitty yet!” Finn said with a wave regardless of whether he was heard or not.

“Oh, hang on, putting you on now...” the C’tani said.

“You mean he can actually hear me?” Finn asked blankly for a moment before cursing to himself . “Oh… Hello Master, it is me.” He said regaining his composure.

“He’s still alive?” The Pimp muttered to himself before laughing and pointing at the camera. “You are so fucked, you little bitch. When the others find out what you’ve done, there will be no where you can hide. No where.”

“Nice to see you too!” Finn said with a grin. “You know, Than, I think he is trying to threaten me.”

“Security to cell two seven six, take prisoner seven sixty three to the shame cube,” the operator said into some kind of announcement system.

“Than, I am curious, what is the shame cube?” The boy asked as he seemed to break out in a cold sweat but was hiding such nerves from behind his smiling façade.

“Little tungsten box out in one of the yards, there are actually several, three foot to a side...” Than said, watching as the door opened and a group of guards entered.

“What do they do, I mean. I can’t imagine they’re just a regular isolation chamber.” The boy said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Unless they are.”

“YOU ARE GOING TO DIE, YOU FUCKING BITCH! MARK MY WORDS.” The pimp shouted as he was grabbed by the guards.

“Shut up,” one snapped and jabbed him in the groin with the shock prod he carried before they hauled the fellow off out of the cell, closing it behind them.

“Really a pleasant guy, as you know.” Finn laughed as he looked for another sweetener package, forgetting the burning sweetness on his tongue already. “At least I can be pretty sure he’s not going to come after me this time. More likely it will be his friends.”

“Why would they?” Sherin asked, “You don’t think he’ll ever be talking to his friends again do you?”

“No, but he has a superior who is likely really pissed at me. I’d hate to be around once that happens to go around. After all, this hasn’t been the first time I’ve caused them trouble.” Finn explained. “Since they made me do a lot of things they also had to rely on me keeping silent about what they ordered me to do, and if I decided I wanted to let information… slip it would be a bad thing for them. After all, I think killing people tends to be bad for business, and I had plenty of blackmail against them, and now that I’m out of their reach with little reason to not disclose it, they’re probably going to do whatever they can to ensure I don’t shit on their parade more.”

“Fat chance of them succeeding, anyway,” Sherin said, “They’d need to find you first.”

“See, and that’s why I’m counting on you guys. Provided that I’m not too much trouble at least. I have tried at least to be less trouble to you guys, don’t know if it’s true or not.” Finn explained. “But if I am at any point too much trouble, please let me know. It won’t be any good if I’m around and a headache.”

Finn looked relieved that the pimp was out of sight and he wondered what else he would find in the strange prison, and of course what they were looking for.

“So, you guys want to get situated or do you need anything?” Than asked.

*I think I should be alright.” Finn said as he attempted to flop upon what looked relatively chair like and he closed his eyes and his ears twitched as he scratched his hair where the horns were upon his head.

“No no, not here,” Moriel protested, “this is a working area! We have guest accommodation.”

“Awww, I like this spot, but I suppose if we must.” Finn threw his hands up as he headed towards the area where the guest accomodations were indicated and he began to rummage through the location to see what was around.

“Up here,” Sherin said, as they neared what appeared to be a titanic pile of containers, with open metal gridwork stairs like fire escapes up one side and a portable elevator system at the other, held in a rickety looking metal frame. They took the stairs.

“Is this going to hold us?” The boy asked as he attempted to head up the stairs as quickly as he could, feeling nervous about the movement as he opened the way in front not sure if he was heading the right way. “Also, you guys mentioned something about C’tan before. You guys don’t come from the same place, and if so who am I going to crash with?”

“We come from the same country, but it’s a big one, and it’d be my people you’d be with, Aligrethans,” Sherin said, jumping up and down slightly on the stairs, “More solid than they look.”

“To my surprise at least, but I cannot really say it doesn’t make me nervous, but what is Aligreth supposed to be like? Is it hot or cold, bright or dark?” the boy asked as he opened the door.

The door lead to a long corridor, with more doors off it, “Hot, bright days, dark nights, cold nights too, It’s where I live, I told you earlier.”

“Well I meant also… you guys don’t have big creatures there do you? No huge giant monsters or anything, or killer creatures that come out only at night time?” The boy asked as he pondered whether he might have to fight those things again. Last time he fought a monster he almost was killed, thus he wasn’t happy at the idea of having to tangle with them again.

“Giant scorpions? Come up sixteen meters long in some cases, but they’re only in the far south.”

“So long as I don’t have to fight them. Nearly got into trouble with a young wyvern and that would have been a nasty thing had it not been for that falcon kid. I think he disappeared a while ago. I didn’t think of it much because his sister also disappeared with him so I figured they moved out.”

“Hopefully,” Than said, “maybe they slipped the border? It’s not far from here. Here we are, guest quarters,” he said, opening one of the doors to reveal a long thin room, set inside a single one of the dozens of shipping containers that made up the ‘building.’

Finn attempted to rummage through the guest room as he wondered if there was anything useful within it, and also attempted to see if there was a comfortable place for him to sit down on. He saw the bed in the distance and flopped upon it comfortably with a big wide smile.

“Agh, this is much better!” Finn said as he looked over at Than and Sherin.

“There should be food in the cupboard, if you don’t feel like coming down to the canteen again for breakfast,” Than said. “I’m six doors along, if you need anything.”

“And there’s no chance the other guys will get out, right?” Finn asked with a narrow glanced eyes. “Umm… right?”

“You are safer now than you have ever been. There are hundreds of guards here, and necrons, and dogs, and robot dogs, and barbed wire and giant walls,” Sherin said, “all of which will put themselves between you and harm. Except maybe the dogs.”

“Well I like dogs, so I would probably take the hint from the dogs and bugger off when they do.” Finn said with a chuckle. “Though, you said you guys will be right next door? Okay then… so if I need you guys is there a specific code other than the knock? Do you guys do the doorknob hat?”

“It’s a prison, I’m not going to be... doing anything of that nature,” Than said.

“I somehow think you might change your mind if the right thing comes along. There’s also the chance that I might bring a friend, after all I don’t know how long we’ll be staying here, and I didn’t sign any ‘celibacy’ contract!” Finn said with a tsk of his head. “Plus, I might need money when I go to C’tan won’t I?”

“You won’t need money and... no guests. We can’t have you inviting people into our jail.”

“Aw, spoilsports. Also what do you mean, I shan’t need any money? I’m going to be off on my own, so quite obviously I will be. There’s no way that I will be able to just get things like a flat and food from nothing, can I?”

“You won’t be off on your own, we’ll find someone to look after you,” Sherin said.

“Won’t that just be a burden for them? I’m not much anything that will be useful for them outside what I already do, and somehow I don’t think that an elder person will want to have a kid whose only talents are fucking and killing things.” The boy said with a slight cringe as in his mind that was about all he was good for.

“You’re not that old,” Than said, looking nonplussed, “Why wouldn’t anyone want to look after you?”

“Because I am a tiefling and because I am a magnet for trouble somehow. I tend to have some sort of curse in which I tend to draw the attention of perhaps the most interesting people. This level of ‘Interesting’ often means that I pick up people who are going to make any person who’s lookin’ after me think twice about keeping me near them. Or it should at least, if they’re not mad.” The boy said with a subconscious attempt to hug himself. “I mean, I would make them unsafe wouldn’t I?”

“How?” the priest asked, “No one sensible dislikes tieflings.”

“I’ve not actually met any sensible people then outside of you, and I suppose people like you are rarer than you think.” Finn said as he lie back on the bed. “Ah, don’t worry about it, I’ll figure something out about it. If I get ditched again then I’ll think of something. I always do.”

“Goodnight Finn,” Than said, as they stepped outside, and closed the door, and showed Levanna into the next room along, “And this is yours,” he said with a smile.

Levanna seemed to be less worried about the crisis of confidence regarding what her future was. She saw things as generally going from day to day and without having much of trouble in the case of having a caring family. That time was already gone and passed. The boy of course she imagined was not actually asleep nor did she expect he was. She nodded to Than warmly as she gestured at the door. “And you lads will be on that side, am I correct?”

“Six down for me, Sherin’s on the ground floor, number six.”

“Alright then, I’ll remember to see if I can get a hold of you lads if I need anything, and I’ll try and keep an eye on the pessimist.” She said gesturing to Finn’s room.

“I don’t think he’ll try and hurt himself, and he’ll be stopped if he tries to get off the base, so he’s probably okay, but thanks.”

“Still, I want to thank you all for everythin’. You’ve been good lads. I can’t know if that’s because ye’ve been raised right or somethin’ but I can see that Finn at least trusts you all. Kids see things that older people can’t sometimes.” Levanna said as she reached toward the bed and lie down and undressed, unfussed if they had left or not.

The night would come and Levanna would sleep through the night untroubled, and Finn wouldn’t sleep much at all as he kept waking every so often and would pace in his room and rummage through the desk and the office supplies, and he’d make little objects to entertain himself including several paper hats and a paper boat and a paper plane which were all carefully folded and he made a small paperclip catapult for which he would carefully aim it at the door and plink it happily as it made a clattering noise against the wall. By the time he had finally managed to tire himself out it was already morning and he had fallen asleep with his head on the desk.

[The Ctan]

Than’s night was actually very similar, and he had to gland a variety of stimulants, a process that required entering a brief meditative state, as he didn’t use a cybernetic interface system for the ability, instructing his body to manufacture a series of drugs called ‘daybreak 8’ and ‘dawnlight’ which were commonly used to extend activity, he sat most of the night to transcribe and dictate reports, passing Finn’s room in the morning, knocking on the door. “You up in there?”

Finn shook himself awake and opened the door and accidently activated one of his paperclip catapults and hit himself upside the head with one. Then he looked up at Than with a smirk. “Been up, it’s just too quiet in here. I’m used to the sounds of thumping and the sounds of wild sex and crazed orgasms.” He lied as he pat Than on the shoulder.

“Had a nice night?” He asked as he looked a bit ragged around the edges.

“Busy, didn’t sleep either. You want to get some chow?”

“Sure, I could use a good snack. Only had Potatoes all week… and onions. Well Potatoes and onions aren’t so bad if you can pilfer a few sprigs of chives and some sour cream.” The boy said with a shrug. “Not much of a cook though, what you got here?”

“I’m not up on the cooking rota today so I have no idea, probably the usual kind of thing, toast, sausages, bacon, nothing very exciting, folks tend to prefer locally sourced. You’re not a vegetarian are you?”

“Who is a vegetarian nowadays?” Finn asked as he seemed to be surprised that anyone not rich was a vegetarian. In his mind it was a rich person’s sickness. Instead he happily smiled and wondered if that meant that they’d have the amazing breakfast sausages and the peanut fed hickory smoked bacon and ham. He noticed immediately however there was no morning scent of coffee which was so common among Altean breakfasts. He had to tilt his head to ponder where the coffee smell was realizing ultimately there was no coffee anywhere.

The refectory was full, with low set tables and benches in the middle of the room and plastiform chairs made of a single piece of extruded fabricator resin making up the rest of the furniture, a long service counter set with various items and sets of tongs, “Take however much you want,” Than added, suspected Finn might fear having to pay.

“Are you sure? I think I don’t have much on me, and this can’t really be free… can it?” He asked with a curious sense of insecurity as he looked at all the tempting food before him but he couldn’t see any prices on them.

“After a certain point we might have to raid the prisoner’s food supplies if you eat everything but no, you’re a guest and it’s free.”

The boy got bacon, steak, scrambled eggs with cheese, apple turnovers, pancakes with syrup, pan-fried potatoes along with onions, green and red bell peppers with cold corn puffs with milk. He seemed to devour the meal oddly quickly and was still looking for more corn puffs floating in the milk with his spoon before tilting the bowl and sipping it like a saucer of soup. He looked back at the food, and looked back at his empty plates and prodded his plate with his fork making a scraping noise.

Sat down with Javert, Sherin and Levanna, Than watched with amusement, “Expecting someone to try and take it off you?” he asked, as Finn wolfed it down.

“I…. kinda think so. Didn’t expect I’d get through it all, and… didn’t even enjoy it much.” He blushed as he scratched his ear. “I’m still kind of hungry but too embarrassed to go back up.” He said as he picked up the fork and prodded the empty plate a little as Levanna pat him on the head.

“I don’t care if anyone thinks me a fat cow, I’ll getcha what ye want, just tell me which.” The prostitute said with a pet of the boy’s head.

“I liked all of it, but I ate it too quickly.” He said with a blush. “I think… more of the bacon, steak and eggs… and the cereal and potatoes. The Turnovers were also nice, but this time when you get pancakes, can you try the blueberry topping instead?” He asked as she realized he was asking for like four plates loaded with food.

Javert put down his fork, taking the plates off the boy, no point in wasting any washing up, even if that did consist of throwing the plastiform plates into the machine, and following Levanna.

Levanna stood by Javert as she was loading the plates with food and she quietly whispered to him. “You think the boy has eaten much all week? I heard he nearly got arrested for stealing bread and was found in a bed of straw again. Meaning he got tossed out for a while ago. I’m not sure if it’s okay to give him so much food. Isn’t it that when you give people who have been starving for a while too much food that it can kill them?” She asked worriedly.

“I have no idea,” Javert said, “you should ask someone who’s more familiar with medicine.”

“I don’t know if anyone is, but I am thinking more of the hear and now on whether I should load the plates up too much or a little bit.” Levanna asked as she decided to just keep it more along the median between the two. “But let’s see if Sherin knows, or maybe Than. Do either of them know much about medicine in this way?”

“Sherin does,” he said, “there is also a physician, Doctor Mariash, over there,” he said, pointing to a necrontyr sat on another table.

“I’ll see if I can ask her more secretive, because if I ask Sherin in front of Finn he might overhear and get offended or something.” Levanna said as she approached the Necrontyr and attempted to see if she was busy, or if she perhaps wanted privacy for her breakfast and let out a mild “Excuse me, Madame?” She asked uncertain if Mariash was a lady’s or a man’s name.

“Yes?” she asked, looking up.

“I’m sorry to disturb your breakfast, but I wished to ask you about a young boy who ‘as been having a rough time on the streets, and I am not sure if he’s doing alright healthwise. It’s ‘ard to tell because he’s sort of prideful, and I am not sure if he’s alright. Someone told me you’re a reliable doctor, so I thought of asking you to give me a hint of advice. Can it hurt the boy to give him twice this much food after he’s had nothing to eat for a week and a half?”

“Refeeding syndrome? It would depend on his state beforehand, which I don’t know, has he had any substantive food in the last two days?”

“A piece of bread.” The woman said with a worried expression. “He also just wolfed down about this much food as I am carrying… well and that other chap over there just now.” The girl said as she watched Finn scrape the table with his fork.

Mariash gave a distinct frown and stood up, “Let’s go have a look at him.”

Finn seemed to be Enthusiastic to receive more corn puffs from Javert and he quickly poured the milk and cereal and was feeling a tad nauseated as he attempted to eat, this time taking his time and he set his eyes upon Levanna who was carrying the rest of the food, and he did not immediately notice Mariash before clearing his throat and he looked over at the woman and bowed his head. “‘Lo There… you a friend of Levanna’s?”

“No, I’m one of the doctors here,” she said, “Hold still for me for a moment,” she said, taking off her jacket, and revealing silvery tattoos up her arms.

He looked blankly at the woman for a moment seeming to be confused and he stood still as he took a deep breath as he looked over at the woman curiously. He seemed to be in rather poor health, but it wasn’t merely due to malnutrition, there were signs of physical abuse and bones healing the wrong way, and perhaps even worse that couldn’t be immediately seen. He was thin and seemed to be weak and didn’t resist any movement.

Skin contact haptics were widespread among doctors, and almost ubiquitous among surgeons, a system of seed-sized implants that laced into the nervous system and series of complex electoos and skinplants and allowed a wide variety of interface and diagnostic tools to literally be at the user’s fingertips. Without conscious thought, blood oxygen, blood pressure readings, pulse and other vitals were recorded. Magnetic resonance systems took images that derived blood pressure and other factors, while magnetic resonance spectroscopy recorded biomolecular data like protein composition and genetic code from his body, performing in seconds what an Altean hospital expensive diagnostic procedures. By placing her hands in the right places she

Mariash frowned, “It won’t immediately be a problem but you should have a shot twice daily just in case,” she said, “I’ve the right stuff in my surgery, it’s nothing special,” she said, “symptoms don’t develop for between many hours and usually a couple of days, depending, but you might feel a variety of unusual symptoms if you try to gorge like that. I wouldn’t think the indigestion is worth it.”

The treatment was simple enough, the medicine normally known as Metalayse, an intravenous supplement intended for recovering from hibernation sickness, which contained substantial potassium and other essentials as well as a nanocolony that balanced electrolytes and liver function, as well as stimulated amino acid function to assist in rapidly converting protein in food to productive body mass. The boy didn’t seem to be excited by the thought of being stuck with needles and feeding tubes, but naturally he took less joy at the idea of dropping dead from eating too much as well. He attempted to speak up but then stopped himself.

“Did I mess up or something?” Finn asked as he looked at Javert in confusion. The boy seemed to consider the unusual attention by doctors to be strange. Usually they would just give him nothing more than pain relievers which of course at this rate he was terribly addicted to them, and sent him on his way. The boy seemed to look at Sherin in confusion as well.

“No, just, take it slow, and you’ll find that your stomach should settle,” Sherin said, as Mariash smiled, “Come see me before I start going over the prisoners,” she said.

Levanna set the food in front of Finn and pet his head affectionately for a moment before Finn sighed. “Alright then, slow then.” Finn said as he munched on the bacon and reached for the juice as he untucked a bottle of medicine from his small pouch. He removed a couple pills and put them on his tongue and sipped the juice and medicine down.

“What’re the pills?” Mariash asked.

“Morphine.” The boy said openly. “Guy tried to kill me earlier. Need a fix me up.” The boy said as he looked over at the woman as he shook the bottle. “Got a prescription for it though.”

“Ah, this reminds me,” Sherin said, taking the pill he’d borrowed from before from a small cigarette box in his pocket, and holding it out, “could you have a look at this for me?” he asked, passing it to Mariash, who held it between her thumb and forefinger, resonance spectroscopy producing a list of its compounds, and measuring the bonds between atoms, the mental part of her cybernetics producing a list of components and appending their known medical effects.

“Where did you get this?” the necrontyr asked.

“Off one of the prostitutes,” Sherin replied, “It’s supposed to be some antibiotic or other.”

“It’s not, it’s contaminated, it’s not even a decent sugar pill,” she said.

“Contaminated?” Finn asked as he was now hesitant to take his own medicine and examined it for a moment critically. “How can you tell just by looking at it?”

She held up a hand, glittering with silver. “These,” she said, “are sensors, humm. Have you a coin?”

He took an old bit of shillings that he had saved and not yet exchanged. He held it out to the Necrontyr curiously as he took a moment to examine his medicine carefully.

“Okay, hide it in one of your hands, and don’t let me see,” she said.

Finn attempted to hide it carefully between his knuckles and looked over at Mariash and held them out, still hiding the coin.

She waved her hand over his, and tapped the hand with the coin, “That one, try again!”

He attempted to be more cunning and slipped it from one hand to the other carefully before holding both hands out and was attempting to see if he could slip it once she chose the right hand.

She waved her hand over his again, picking the right one again, “I can actually feel the metal,” she said, “so I’m cheating. I’d get it right a thousand times.”

“Clever, I had no idea your people could do that. Remind me not to bet against you then.” Finn laughed as he tucked the coin away and he nervously demonstrated his medicine. “Is this… also contaminated too?”

She took it in hand, running the same series of molecular imaging tests to determine its makeup. There appeared to be more than just opiates within the medicine, but also caffeine and addictive drugs which would also indicate that the boy was also unaware of this addiction as well, because the label surely didn’t include them. The label merely included the active ingredient of morphine, which was still odd to be given to a young child.

“What’s the matter?” Finn asked as he didn’t seem to like the woman’s expression.

“Who prescribed this?” she asked, seeming almost offended by it.

“Local doctor… went to the same one that another group of prostitutes have gone to. He gives medicine for cheapest, so no one gave it a second thought. I felt better when it worked, so… Is it poisoned?” He asked nervously as he had just taken one.

“It’s been made to be extremely addictive, it’ll kill you eventually, but it’s mostly there to keep you coming back.”

“I’m… going to die.” The boy seemed to be shocked by this revelation and his eyes widened and he hung his head before nervously laughing. “Great! One less trouble on my mind.”

“Only if you keep taking that crap, we’ll have to find something suitable to wean you off it, it’d only get you in your thirties or so...”

“I don’t want to take it anymore, I don’t think.” Finn said with a tired sigh. “Get me in my thirties? Huh, that shouldn’t be bad then. Thirty is old enough isn’t it?” He seemed to cringe inwardly as he set the medicine on the table and offered it to Mariash. “Where… can I get stuff that works… that won’t kill me so soon?”

“It shouldn’t kill you at all, I’ll see about it later, when you come over,” she said, “catch you later,” she added, attempting to make her way back to her breakfast. Finn looked over at Sherin knocked off his appetite and he attempted to finish his bacon, feeling that it was making him knocked off his balance altogether.

“You know, guys, this is not what I expected at all when I was going to come with you. I had expected to be tossed about and just eventually dumped somewhere in C’tan where I’d have to figure things out for myself… Somehow I’m becoming confused by why you guys are so nice to me. I’m… starting to think there’s something you guys want. If you need anything from me, you know, you can just ask me...”

“The only thing we want from you is for you to learn,” Sherin said.

“To learn what? I mean I’ve learned a few things about you guys, but I don’t know if it’s any good. Moreover, I’m confused by your motivation. You are a… confusing lot. It’s… strange.” Finn said. “Oh shit, I remembered… I was supposed to do something before heading off… I suppose it’s not a big deal if I don’t do it but…” He took his phone out and typed a message and wondered if he had signal in the area. “I was asked to send a message to a guy in the resistance somewhere, but I can’t do anything about it so I’m canceling the job.”

“Resistance?” Than asked, sounding very unenthused at this notion, as he looked at the boy from under his short black curls, “What resistance?”

“Hm? There’s a local resistance in every town I suspect. Opposition to the C’tan is becoming popular among disaffected Tor, you know... Have you not noticed it yet?” Finn asked with a chuckle. “Ara, I’ve got something you want, after all? They did kind of offer tasks for me once in a while.” Finn asked as he showed the C’tani the phone number he was dialing. “I don’t know if it is still active, but I haven’t sent the message just yet… you might find them if you plug this number in, but I can’t say it is a guarantee. Moreover, you look unhappy...I wasn’t planning to actually do anything with those guys you know. I have a will to live sometimes. One of those times is at least five minutes ago when the bacon wasn’t killing me. Argg…..” He said as he put his head on the table and groaned.

“Do you want a tablet for that?” Sherin asked.

“I don’t think it will hurt will it? So long as it isn’t more of the poison, I think I can take it.” The boy said as he clutched his stomach a bit looking over at the C’tani with a hand extended.

Sherin stood his non-uniform coveralls slightly scuffed, attachment points for armour visible across them, as he walked over to a cupboard, and took a small bottle out of one of the inside shelves on the door, and shook a pill from it, “Try this,” he said, the white lozenge printed with a necrontyr symbol.

Finn took the medicine in his hand and swallowed it dry, not sure if he was meant to do so, but also not caring too much. He looked over at the C’tani and seemed to calm down a bit as he set his food aside and cleared his throat.

“So, guys, when are we leaving?” Finn asked as he seemed to be eager to be out of the area. “I would imagine this job doesn’t let you go off the area too much.”

“A day or two, why?” the C’tani asked, “Possibly today.”

“I am like, counting the hours at this point to see when I can finally leave this blighted place.” Finn said with a nervous twitch. “I mean, it’s an emotions thing. Every bit of my reason tells me there is no possible way that anything will happen, and that I am safe in your company. There is no possible chance that I will even have so much as a single hair plucked by one of my masters, but my emotions are telling me: ‘Finn there are people who are trying to kill you as we speak, they are fantasizing different ways to brutally murder you’. If that makes any sense. I am afraid.”

“It does, yes,” he said, “But we’ll have to arrange for you to go and that might take some time,” he said, “Do you want to relax and lie down for a while?”

“S-Sure, but I was… didn’t you also not sleep last night? You must also be pretty tired…” Finn said as he looked over at Than concernedly.

“I’m fine,” he said, “I can be for quite some time without any ill effects,” he added, “But I have to go out and look at the prisoners, they won’t terrify themselves you know…”

Finn laughed jovially as he finally managed to calm himself down a little and he looked over at Than with admiration. “Well, if you’re going to go terrify some slavers and some other Alteans, I’m totally cool with that. I will try and lie down a bit, didn’t get any sleep last night.” He explained. “Let me know when you’re done for the day.” Finn said as he headed back to his room and flopped on his bed. As he rested Levanna seemed to be at ease with the idea that the boy was finally calm.

“Hmm… I can see why one of the other prisoners would dread seeing you in the morning, but the boy seems to worry about you. Don’t you guys need sleep like normal people?” She asked as she prodded his shoulders a bit, and then she carefully checked if there were any knots.

“Humm? Of course, but I don’t - there are some harmless drugs one can use that rest the mind in sequence.”

“Uh oh… they’re not some sort of Treefolk make, are they?” She asked with a worried tone in her voice.

“No, not at all,” he said with a laugh, “Have you done this before?”

“Know a girl who used to work with me, got hooked on Treefolken Ether, and then ended up hopelessly addicted to the point where she overdosed herself.” Levanna said with a shudder.

“I mean the massage,” he said, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

She smiled as she carefully unknotted the muscles in his shoulders and nodded her head. “We’re women of entertainment, so massage is but one more way we can pleasure our customers, but you don’t have to worry, I’m not charging a dime.” She said playfully tussling his hair.

He laughed, standing up, “Duty calls, I’m afraid. Fancy coming and gloating from the gate?” he said, “we… don’t have much entertainment around here.”

“I can think of ways to make things entertaining.”Levanna said as she looked over to see what she could spot from the gate. She was not sure if the prisoners could see her, but she could certainly see them. The prisoners were mostly Tor, and of the wealthier class, with each one of them calling out complaining that they’d been wrongly apprehended.

“Hey guys!” Than called, past the guard post, “Visitor!”

“You’ve got to believe me, you’ve got the wrong guy! I didn’t kill that bitch.” One of the Prisoners shouted.

Than looked at him, smirking and shaking his head a little, “Anyone you know?”

“Let’s see. He looks familiar, but I won’t be able to tell until I see him naked.” Levanna said as she tilted her head, and she twirled a curly lock of her hair.

“I SWEAR! That bitch had absolutely nothing to do with me. I had no idea who she was, so I couldn’t have killed her!”

“Back in a moment,” Than said, stepping into a turnstyle, that unlocked, walking along through the gap between the two sets of wire, taking the baton from inside his jacket, flicking it out, to a formidable length, “You there!” he said, to the protesting pimp, “Over here!”

To the C’tani’s surprise the man was actually not a pimp, but he was apparently a wealthy baronet. He shouted out at the C’tani.

“Let me out! LET ME OUT OF HERE!” He shouted at Than.

He held the baton up, waving it at the fellow and then pointed over toward the mesh in front of Levanna.

Levanna wasn’t immediately sure what Than was doing as the Baronet attempted to reach for his prison bars and seemed to be mildly intimidated by Than’s movements, but not immediately aware that Than was threatening him. “Over Here!” he shouted.

“What’s your name?” Than asked, standing behind him two paces away.

“I’m Lord Darrett Garventide.” The Baronet said with his hands waving.

“Someone important?” he asked, looking at Levanna.

“Baronet, somewhere in Fynn, I think.” The woman said with a nod. “I probably have seen his cock before.”

“Get ‘em off, let the lady see!” Than declared.

Levanna was surprised to see the man stripped down and she nodded in confirmation. “Yep, I remember him. He was among the others that liked it pretty rough.”

“Oh he liked to receive a beating did he?” she teased.

“In a manner of speaking. He also liked to beat me as well. He was the rough tumbler.”

“That you, Darren?” Than asked.

“Lord Darrett.” He corrected. “And I have enjoyed the company of cheap whores like any other man.”

The blow was hard and fast, aimed just above the back of his knee, to knock his leg out from under him, accompanied by a shock that seemed to burrow in through the back of his knee and light his bones up. He let out a sharp cry before he was knocked to the ground, caressing his leg in pain, rocking it, attempting to make the feeling wear off.

“That’s Prisoner Darret, Sir to you.”

“Is your name, Darrett then?” He asked blankly. “As, I am not a ‘Sir’ I am a Lord.”

“You will address all persons as Sir or Ma’am, unless told otherwise, Darret!”

“Yes, Sir?” He asked as he looked afraid of Than and also confused.

“Why don’t you tell me all about your amorous adventures, Darret?”

“Because it is none of your business. Er… Sir.”

“What? None of my business? Everything is my business Darret! Out with it!”

“What do you want to know? How I used to fuck all the women I desired? I had money so I could do what I wanted with it. I didn’t mind getting a little bit of spanking if I could get a chance to punish the impudence of the lowborn a little.”

“Explain... what do you mean punish?”

“Depends on what I had, sometimes whips, chains, and some paddles and broken tools, it was fun and arousing, but this is something that I’m sure your people are familiar with. I did however not kill anyone.”

“Broken tools?” he asked.

“I had a rubber stick, a part of an old hammer that was broken off. This is just one example.”

“And what did you do with this... hammer?”

“Well, Men and women have orifices in which it can fit, as well as a good end that can be used for beatings. It’s not hard enough to crush people though, the hammer end is broken off. It’s the rubber handle.”

“What a fascinating fellow you are. Go on, get back to the others.”

“Other tools or other kinds of amorous encounters? As we could be at this all day. I am a very good lover.” He said with a nod of his head.

“I remember something a little different. He was a crier.” Levanna said with a shrug.

“Oh look, it’s the opinion of one of your ‘lovers’ who doesn’t have to lie to please you...” he said. “Go on, tell him all about how good he really is...” Than teased.

“He was pretty violent, he liked it when I pretended I was scared and unwilling and he also liked a bit of choking, and that was always a bit of a risk for me. I’ve seen some people get killed that way, so I always limited it.” Levanna said as she crossed her arms. “I also didn’t like the way you smell after a bout.”

“Smelly are you Darrett?” Than asked.

“I am not! I’m going to take this from a whore? She’s perpetually covered in the smell of hot ass, and people can piss on her and shit on her if they fancied.” He said offended.

“You want to get another crack, little man? I’ll give you a hot ass,” he said, stepping closer, “You will show respect to Levanna.”

“I’m sorry Sir, I am sorry Ma’am.” He said grudgingly. “What are you doing that you’re going over such useless impertinent questions? I’ve been locked up here for no reason. It’s racism I say! Racism!”

“Racism? Go on, sod off, get back to your friends,” Than said, “I’ve got work to do.”

“I didn’t kill that girl. I’m not a slaver! You’ve got the wrong guy!”

“Go! Away with you,” Than said, waving his baton like a cudgel.

“C’mon! You’ve got at least some decency!” He shouted as another guy shouted out to attempt to get the C’tani’s attention. “I got money waiting for you if you let me out!”

“How much money have you got?” the parole officer asked, looking at him.

“I got real Mithril silver, and of honest size.” He nodded. “Bars of the things in a secret place that only I know!”

“Oh good. You just earned yourself a ticket to… Guess where he’s going, Levanna!”

“He’s getting the stuffing beaten out of him so you can find out where he’s hiding the stuff?”

“Very clever young lady, our Levanna!” he said, prodding the man with the baton, not shocking him this time.

"Goddamn it all! I bet if I were no Tor you'd not pull this crap. There was no such cockery when the REAL Messandre on the Ruby Throne. ” The prisoner complained. “ Decay of honor and Altean values. Now even the best among us languish under This tyranny. ”

“You think it’s just Tor?” he said, and cast his eyes about for a non-Tor and non-Meilian prisoner.

“ Stop yer grousing , lad. Yer stuck with the rest 'O us. Ain't gittin' a free pass like yer used ter gittin'. Jus' git o'er it." The Nebbarathi man groaned in a low growl.

“You, ser are a criminal who ought to be hanged I'm sure. I, however am here by accident. ”

"Sure ye are." The Nebbarathi prisoner said sarcastically.

“You there!” Than said, “why are you here?” he asked the Nebbarathi, after taking the time to work out he wasn’t a Tor.

“Because I was clearly the most upstanding subject in his Majesty's good kingdom of honour and glory pip pip and so forth. ” he said with a nod before dropping his imitation of the rest of the prisoners. “ No, but more seriously though, I am here for murder. I am also as guilty as sin."

“Good man, well, I say good, I mean, not as bad, what did you forget, swine?” Than asked.

"What? Ye confuse me ser. Ye talkin' ta me?" The Nebbarathi prisoner asked. "Didn't fergit nothin, I think."

“Sir, address all guards as Sir,” he said, pronouncing the word slightly differently, “Okay, off you go. Leva, I’m off to go say hello to Finn’s friend, then he and his buddies need booking, see you and the kid at midday for lunch, if you’re around,” he said, noting to call on the kid shortly to take him for his shots.

“Sure, Than. I'll keep an eye on the kid. Let me know if ya need me, sweetheart. " Levanna said warmly as she headed comfortably away from the prisoners and back to her comfy room and she checked in on the kid. This left Than to to get to get a chance to properly antagonize the prisoners.

He didn’t immediately, instead going back out the way he’d come and to one of the administration buildings, only heading out to the box an hour later, taken aback slightly by the baked urine smell, he looked for the one that the pimp was in, a tungsten shame cube three foot high and only a little longer, thus not an actual cube, with a narrow slow on the door to see out of. He kicked the side of it, hard. “Wake up call for you!”

"Ugh... it's you again. What do you want?" The pimp spat annoyed.

“Ready to make use of the en-suite facilities?” he asked, rapping on the roof of the box.

"Am I to presume that there is is something worse than this damned thing?" The pimp asked horrified by the implications.

“No, you’ve got the wrong idea, let him out boys,” he said to Sherin and another guard, a tattooed black man with buzz-cut hair, the door opened, and one of them held out a hand to help the pimp up.

“You’ve got some powerful friends mister,” Than said.

"You bet your ass I do. I know tons... tons of powerful people and I can make things very uncomfortable for you. " the pimp said with a malicious grin.

“I’d love to know who it was who got my bosses to let you go, come on, you at least need hosing down before we turn you lose,” he said, attempting to look frustrated, leading the pimp toward a gate leading to the processing area.

"I'll pass. I have a lovely shower at my home with a better view than this dump. So I'm all for heading out without this nonsense. " The Pimp said with a nervous dismissive wave.

“Okay,” Than said, “whatever you say, sir,” he said as they passed through gates and walls, before arriving at a gate that looked on the countryside and farmland beyond, a black car pulled up nearby. “Prisoner for release here,” he said to a necron guard, “Supervisor Chalmers’ Orders.”

The inner gate opened.

The pimp headed toward the gate the as he attempted to step through it, feeling he was home free. He waited for one moment to see if there was any catch.

“One last thing,” Than said.

"I thought so. What do you want? Look, if you want something make it plain. " the pimp sighed in annoyance.

“You come after that boy when you’re out there, and I’m going to come after you myself,” Than said.

“I am not someone you need to worry about. He’s stepped on a lot of people’s toes. If someone kills him, I can swear it ain’t me.” The pimp said raising his hand. “Pimp’s honor. Swear by my best of cars. I won’t go after the boy, but I won’t give you much hope. He’s on a lot of people’s blacklists. I am pretty sure you’re taking on more than you can chew with this one.”

“Not so bad. I won’t beat you. Get him lads.”

Sherin and the other guard grabbed his arms, an armlock coming naturally as they seized the pimp.

“Hey now, what’re you doing? I thought I was being let go?” The pimp asked as he was confused by being roughly seized once more.

“You haven’t got any friends, or at least none that concern us, I just thought you might like the walk, back to the box with you,” Than said as they began to haul him back the way he’d come.

“Not a man of your word, I see. Well, I’m going to keep my own side of the flipping over bargain. I was going to be nice, and go to tell Artfour not to kill that kid, but since you’ve changed your mind, I won’t be able to call him off, too bad for you.” The Pimp said with a falsely sympathetic expression. “Pity, pity. You can’t put that one on me even, I have tragically failed to revoke the order.”

“You weren’t getting out, I can’t release you even if I want to. I can shoot you, but I can’t release you, isn’t that odd, so it’s no skin off my nose, you’re basically in your tomb already,” he laughed, as they headed back toward the row of tiny cube-like prisons, with their accompanying rich smell of faeces and urine.

The pimp flailed his hands angrily as he groaned in anger at his predicament and he attempted to keep from becoming even more unmotivated to leave this dump.

They opened the door, and shoved him down onto his knees, the darkness inside accompanied by the buzzing of flies from within. “You didn’t even get a drink or a shower, sucker,” Than said.

“Not worried about that, it would be a high pressure hose. I’m not fucking stupid. Have you ever been hit with one of those things?”

Than kicked him, “Down you get,” he said.

“You’ll be sorry.” The Pimp threatened.

“I’m sorry now,” Than said, “sorry I can’t spend all day dicking with you. Sherin...”

The burly Aligrethan punched the pimp in the kidney, an excruciating kind of pain acompanied the blow.

The Pimp shouted as he attempted to keep from crying, but his eyes were red as could be in his effort.

“Get in your box, and thank me for giving you a box shitbreath!” Than snapped.

The pimp entered the box wordlessly biting back his tears as he waited to be shut inside the box patiently as he took a deep breath and seethed in his bitterness and anger. Than held out his baton in front of the box, “I gave you a box. Why aren’t you thanking me? Don’t you like your box?” he asked.

“Who could ever like that goddamned thing?” He asked astonished by the question.

Than laughed and shut the door, locking it, “You’ll see tomorrow. You’ll miss it soon...” he said, and threw the key through the slot in the box, there was no way to reach the lock from the inside, and the key was not in fact the original, but a random key of the same general type; that didn’t open anything, but another way to wind the prisoner up. The pimp attempted to find a way to open the door and struggled with the key for what seemed to be hours.

[Mystrian Altea]

Eirin Greythorn Jail, Mordovia

The Gaol Arks stopped here; for this area at least. Huge walls of solid ferrocrete topped with haze-wire were set up behind the outer rows of prefabricated defences that had been set up, and which were used by the necron guards, along with automated turrets. Hunter-scarabs roamed outside the walls as guards, flensing variants that could strip the flesh from the bones in moments. All this and more were visible to the prisoners as they approached, but perhaps the most annoying thing was the name, in large black letters on the grey wall proclaiming the place’s name. An irony as the name of Eirin Greythorn was a bit of a legend in these parts. The famous greythorn the ranger, whose deeds were sung even in this age. Eirin Greythorn was a wildling, and had ever opposed the idea of imprisonment and enslavement, and she was best known for her attack on the gaols of the Barons and Viscounts as she declared herself opposed to all forms of tyranny. The Lady Greythorn whose arrows would leave so much death in her wake that all the steel that had been left behind would be like erect grey thorns on the ground, her namesake was always one that lingered.

The baker was annoyed that once again he had been dragged about and harassed and yet another googly eyed foreigner had rejected yet another bribe. The baker called to the jailor and tried to catch his attention. “Excuse me! I am here, and I wish to register a complaint to this department for the charge of false arrest!”

The response was immediate, the necron looking at him, and prodding him with the prongs at the end of its weapon, administering a nerve-stimulating but low powered electrical shock. “Silence prisoner!” was the only answer as the transport wended its way into the interior of the, hovering over a set of tank-traps. The interior of the facility was several large blocks of what seemed like shipping containers, with fences between them, most of the site was empty still, with few prisoners to fill it. At last the vehicle stopped, and the necrons boarded, pulling the prisoners down one by one, releasing their manacles.

“I say, it is a false charge! I demand that I be let go this instant!” The man clanged against his bonds.

The necrons ignored him, of course, and shoved him down into the courtyard, with about half a dozen others, and the prison-barge turned away up over the fence it had entered by, leaving them to their new guards, who were mostly anonymous necrons, and a few humans, elves, necrontyr and others. The man grunted as he was shoved down to the courtyard and watched the strange crowd and seemed to be annoyed. He grumbled and cursed under his breath, and tried to catch someone’s attention.

A young man dressed in a black coat and white shirt, stood before the others, “Welcome to Eirin Greythorn Jail! All of you are here for one reason alone; you are charged with capital crimes. Let me make sure that has sunk in. Anyone who attempts to escape here will be shot. Anyone who causes disorder. Will be shot. Anyone who attempts to damage jail property, or start an affray, or kill themselves, will be shot.”

“B-But if they’re killing themselves...why would being shot be a punishme-” One of the men shouted loudly.

“Flogged then shot!” the man announced, someone always asked.

“But what if they like flogging?” Another asked.

“I see you are volunteering!” he said, looking at the man who’d suggested this.

“Erk…” The man said as he then regretted he spoke up and kept quiet.

“Form an orderly queue for your prison clothes and delousing, you horrible bunch of animal-food rejects, and we’ll get to processing you.”

The prisoners lined up and seemed to tightly push someone else weaker behind them, leading to the first schlub being pushed at the Necrons. The man seemed to be less than pleased at being first.

The C’tani man wasn’t kidding, the room they were shoved through was more of a high pressure hose that would pass for a water cannon if it were a little more powerful, before they were shoved into orange jumpsuits that clung wetly and quite uncomfortably. The first man sputtered and flopped over as he then attempted to dry his orange jumpsuit by wringing it out. The baker then approached one of the men hosing another prisoner, jumping queue and whispered.

“Look, I know you are a working man just doing your job, I tell you what, I’ll give you about thirty pounds of pure gold, if you will let me walk away right now. No fuss!” He whispered shrilly.

“Here’s for your gold,” the elven man said, rolling his eyes, and turned the hose on him, “Get undressed, stupid ass.”

The hose made him flop over on his backside and he shouted in surprise and got back to his feet.

“Now see here, you! I am merely offering an… Hey! Stop that!” He said as he got hosed again. “Gragh.” He said as he complained some more under his breath and undressed.

“Go on, fuck off,” he said, “Next!”

The next man was ready for it, and he attempted to hold himself in place so as not to be washed away by the hose.

When the baker reached the next room, the elven woman behind the desk threw his jumpsuit at him, “Cover yourself and get out of here,” she said grabbing the next one off the shelf; it was very much a one size fits none affair. The baker was wearing an enormous jumpsuit and the man next to him wore something that looked like it would fit a small schoolboy.

“How am I supposed to wear this thing?” The man complained.

“Get out of here, asshole, move on. Next!”

The man tore the garment as he attempted to put it on, and his asscrack was clearly visible, there was no way to mend it with what he had. he shrugged and moved on as the baker tumbled and flopped in the mud as he attempted to lift the swathes of cloth that were his clothes.

At last they arrived at registration, where the baker found a queue awaiting him.

The baker cursed as he pulled his pants up and walked over to the line and waited as he stepped before the registrar.

“Look, I don’t know if you know who I am, I am not supposed to be here.” The baker said with a frown.

“Nor I!” Another man, a slave trader said with a furrowed brow. “It is a mistake!”

“Name?” the Necrontyr asked, without looking up.

“Andoron Morthol.” the Baker said with a frown.

“Occupation?” he asked.

“Baker.” He said with a cross expression. “And falsely accused of slavery I might add! I am no such thing. Those accusations are slander!”

“Silence, you’re actually here for murder, not slavery. Not that it matters,” he said, looking down at the holographic screen of indecipherable necrontyr text.

“And who have I murdered? None! I have killed no man.”

“Perjury also. And price-fixing. Huh. Hand out.”

“I have never perjured in my life!” He said as he carefully put his hand out, expecting them to burn it with a brand of some sort.

He held out a manacle, and bolted it down to the table, then injected his hand with a rather horrible looking and even worse feeling needle.

“ARGH! What IS this stuff?!” The baker shouted as he instinctively scrappled in attempts to remove his hand from the manacle.

“‘Bloodswarm nanoscarabs,’ I think is the butchered translation. Basically, if you run off, something really bad will happen to you. You don’t want to find out what.”

“What in the hell… you put bugs in my blood? What the… GET THEM OUT I DON’T WANT BUGS IN MY BLOOD!”

“Tough, they’re rather cute. I have some myself. Now fuck off,” he said, unlocking the manacle, pointing to the next line.

The Baker attempted to scrabble at his arms, scratching and scraping vainly as he went to the next line. He had no idea how the blood scarabs worked so all he did was scrape at it until he bled and he felt a little relief, not knowing that they were still inside.

“B-Blood scarabs… who are they joking with? Bugs in the blood..”

The next line was apparently to see the lawyers, of which there were two, harassed looking individuals in a portakabin-type affair with thick barriers across it in front of their desks, and grim looking bucket seats bolted to the doors. “Andoron Morthol?” one called, a fair haired woman who looked to be in her thirties, dressed casually in Menelmacari style. On the desk was labelled ‘Laura Thalnam, Lawyer.’

Next to Laura’s desk one of the nobles shouted angry. “I TELL YOU THAT BITCH WAS LYING!” He flailed. “BUT THAT’S WHAT YOU GET WHEN THE POLICE BELIEVE A NAYALI STRUMPET. I AM LEAVING.”

Whereupon one of the guards took the opportunity to show the man to his cell; leaving the jail was not exactly an option after all.

“ Errr…” Andoron said with confusion. “ Right, so I’m accused of murder, when I didn’t murder nobody. I’m not a damned crow or merc. I’m a baker.”

“Hello, I’m Laura and I’ll be your state appointed lawyer today, unless you wish to discharge me or represent yourself, and frankly, feel free,” she said boredly, paging over to look at the particulars of the case. “It says here you don’t serve non-humans in your bakery?” she asked.

“I do not serve non-humans, no. There’s a perfectly fine bakery out of town where they can serve their kind. I cater to higher clientele.”

“How far out of town?” she asked.

“Next town over, I don’t know why they continue to pester me, as I have not made it unclear.” He said with a raised eyebrow. “Your kind serve orcs as well?”

“Frankly, I’d prefer to have orcs as clients right now,” she said, looking up at him with ice blue eyes, “Anyways, that appears to be a one hundred and twenty kilometer walk...” she said.

“Not my problem, they should get a car.” He said with a dismissive wave. “It is just down out of town and the next town over. If they wanted to get what they needed surely they can find it. It’s not my fault the rice salesman croaked, I’m not a murderer for picking up his customers, and rejecting the ones I’d rather not work with.”

“I’m afraid that you are, or at least, the law says that you are. Denying anyone service on grounds of species is a minor issue, not seriously punished or really considered a misdemeanor, but denying required essential supplies under prejudice makes you liable for the resulting consequences. Should have been a jeweller.”

“I’m not to blame for a damned demon spawn’s death. This is unfair, and you should be thanking me. I am trying to keep my sales reserved to people who are better kept in town. If they have a problem they should live somewhere else.” The man said with a frown. “But this is no way comparable to the murder by a crow! I’m no assassin, I’m a baker, and I can’t be forced to sell to anyone I don’t want my business to be catering to.”

“Yes you can, look at the prison. Do you want me to advise you how to get out of this with your skin intact or do you just want to bleat about how unfair it is?” she said with a harried, exasperated look as he protested.

“Well tell me then, because I would rather have my skin intact, and with no blood bugs.”

“The first thing is, avoid a jury trial. You might think you’ll be able to win it that way, but that’s going to include about sixty percent non-humans, if it’s typical, and the racism will make most everyone mash the guilty button...” she said.

“And then?” The baker asked.

“Plead guilty, claim social pressure made you do it, or something. Do you feel pressured to hate non-humans?” she asked.

“Well…I could...but I don’t know it doesn’t sound like an entirely brilliant idea if you say my mere appearance screams racist.” He said pondering as he shrugged. “I could say that though, should I make sure to seem like I am a dogged victim of the system?”

“Ideally you want to look kind of shocked by it all, try being stupified.”

“S’not too hard to do, but I think that it’d be something that is a bit… well. I’ll do what you suggest, how much time am I looking at?” He asked.

“Before your trial?” she asked.

“And after.”

“Well, you’re not eligible for a slaver tribunal, so they’ll probably bring actual investigators into your affairs, and then assemble a more substantive case, we’ll get to review that. Maybe as much as six months or even longer, then probably a couple of years, there’s a lot like you to work through. Then you’ll get to go to a C’tani court, and after that, if you’re found guilty, it’ll probably be a few months at most.”

“Jolly good then, that’s better than I expected. I thought I would be made to rot.” The baker said with a sigh. “Not that I am actually guilty of murder, I feel this is a farce. I can’t help for everyone to get what they need. I’m not a socialist.”

“I mean, on the bright side, we can probably find some argument to appeal on, and get you a couple extra months...” she said, paging through his case notes so far.

“How is that good news for ME?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. “That’s extra months in jail innit?”

“Well yes, but most people want the extra time when they’re sentenced to death.”

“Wha-wait… I thought we were talking about me getting only a few months in jail and then it would be time served. I’d be a free man?” The man seemed to be confused. “This is not what you said, and it’s disproportionate to kill a man for not selling to customers he doesn’t serve!”

She burst out laughing, leaning back, behind the partition into the next cubicle, “Paul, listen to this guy! I say a few months after the trial, he thinks I mean a few months in prison...” the next lawyer over began to laugh too, and she came back to the desk, “That’s... great. Well yes, you might not think you were doing much wrong, but when you’re hoarding all the bread, then people tend to take a dim view of that. You’d frankly be better off if you’d killed someone in a bar-fight or an altercation over drugs. At least that doesn’t require sustained malice...”

“But that is my property, and I had my every right to decide what I do with it. If I wanted to just throw it away, I legally had that right, but I didn’t. You can’t be serious and say that I have committed murder by controlling my own property, and who I sell it to.”

“Well, the report here has it that you’ve been doing this bullshit since your father’s day at least, and mysteriously no one else has ever set up a shop that lasted around here... so I have little doubt that they’ll take the claims you’ve been driving off rivals to keep your monopoly seriously.”

“Even if I was, and I am not saying I was, I would not be committing murder by engaging in wiser business practice than my competitors. The rice man decided to work and trade with non-humans and he got his head cut clean off, he did. You bet it was the non-humans that did him in. Never got any murders happening on my shop, nor have I been working with unsavory persons. That’s why I do well, and the others predictably do not.”

She gave him a steady look, “Do. not. try. that. in. court.”

“What, claim that the non-humans murdered the rice salesman? That’s pretty much common knowledge. Only an animal would have done something so brutal to that man, and I was not responsible for it. He was the one stupid enough to serve non-humans which would later kill him.”

“And who do you think will be judging you?” she asked.

“A reasoned judge. Do you think for a moment I am being facetious?” The man asked as he shook his head. “I did not kill that man, and nor have I killed anyone other than those you claim I was forced to sell my good to which I maintain is not my responsibility.”

“It makes you look like a lying sack of shit. Anyway, of the three judges you can generally expect two non-humans. So yeah. That won’t fly. Anyways, plenty more to do. I’ll let you know when we get more notes on your case. NEXT!” she said, pushing a button on her desk.

The baker looked outraged but he realized he couldn’t use reason with these people, they ran a socialist kangaroo court geared only to the non-human favor. He suspected this would be the case when the non-humans had penetrated the homelands. There was little redemption for Altea now, and only he could expect that Altea would burn in fire once the Gods reject it once more.

“I think I’ll play with the next one,” the lawyer called over to the gent in the other cubicle, she had little hope for getting any of these people off; the one who had just left managed to be simultaneously anti-capitalist, speciesist, racist and a smug cunt about it all.

The man who approached next was a pimp who had been selling women out of the docks, and he had perhaps, or what he claimed ‘accidentally’ killed one of the working women in an altercation with the guard. He insisted that they were the ones responsible and not he. He set his hand on the table, and tried to get the lawyer’s attentions.

“Welcome to Lawyers R Us, providing you with discount legal aid since three forty three, what legal service do you require,” she said, smiling sweetly.

“ A Funny gal, I like that spunk, I do declare that at least they’ve set me up with a beautiful one. So tell me, Laura is it? How am I able to discuss with these… peculiar alien folk who consider me to be worthy of, shall I say butchery? I don’t think they stab executions, though I’ve heard of odder ways to go.”

“If you’re very lucky they do beheadings...” she said, “What’re you charged with, they should have told you outside...”

“I killed a bitch. It might have been on purpose, or an accident I cannot confirm or deny these charges, but I maintain that that fat headed bastard did it, and not me. Yes, and he had one arm. Yes, a fat headed one armed bastard. I can even find you a one armed fat headed bastard. Probably, anyone have a sword?”

“I see you don’t quite grasp the severity of your situation here. Been in trouble with the law before have you?” she asked.

“You could say that, and not nearly the worst situation I’ve been in. I can expect that you’d be pretty decent executioners. Probably. That’s discounting the idea that you guys won’t employ a blind monkey to do your beheadings, in which case, I cannot expect much better. Does it matter though? I’m going to die anyway. I’ve only gotten this far because your people love procedures. It’s like Forntians with an odd obsession for less rules.”

“What precisely is it you were doing when you might have killed Schrodinger’s bitch, then?” she asked.

“I was drinking booze and I was probably having sex with one of my other bitches. She can perhaps be my alibi, but that would be inconsequential, because I have an eyewitness who proves to be problematic. He maintains that I did the thing, and not the fat headed one armed bastard me and my bitches saw, and which I say is the god’s honest truth.”

[Palomecia]

The Docks of the West Briar-run Lake

West Briar-run lake was a rather lovely tourist attraction, if of course one was smart enough to stay on the beautiful glittering side of the white sanded shore. If one went closer to the old docks, however, one could see the old eyesore of sprawl from the city, which only served to make it look like more of a dump than a shipping yard. The Harbor was only well kept on the Northern and Western shore. The Eastern side was notorious for its numerous murders, and the South side was also filled with the struggling poor and working class. The old houses made of rotting wood were often moldy with the putrid smell of mildew and there were of course the platforms that were eroding and some had even fallen through. Some of them looked like they had been ham handedly repaired with driftwood and rusted scrap metal. The people were of course equally decrepit and did seemed to be wearing tattered burlap clothing, if at all, and some with fairly decent clothing had moth eaten fabric that had been old. Their faces seemed perpetually covered in caked mud. The swill of course brought forth the seediest elements of the worst among them. Desperation and the stink of failure was a common perfume among them.

The trio of C’tani that approached were all men, clad in a variety of clothes, dark and light alike, looking as much like lost tourists as possible, or at least, as much like a stereotype, wearing swords and pistols ostentatiously, they gave the impression of armed men, certainly, but not policemen, which was rather the point.

Than walked at the head of the group, his dress was of silver thread and comfortable looking, and he walked without looking around him, as though a young man with his retinue. What he did however, was carry his handkerchief over his nose, though he knew it would do nothing to block out the smell. The scent of warm meat was somewhere on the breeze, like stale lunchboxes left too long in the sun, the wind off the abattoir conveying the malodorous scent down onto the docks like a curse, the heady whiff of urine somehow competing with the brine of the side road, heady smells of fish markets, unfrozen and stored for processing as low quality meats gave the place an odd reek, and the discharge of plastics and other light industry ran an acrid tang through the area that bespoke soaking acid baths and resinous byproducts. The mouldering of old fabrics oozed from the door of a clothes shop, many of the shops built or altered to have doors flush with the road to make the most of limited floorplans and avoid the scent of the vagrants that would use such places to sleep. He stepped aside from a smear of vomit, some time past he judged, in its creation, the fact that it was not directly near a drinking establishment suggesting it just might have a piteous cause in sickness rather than loathsome intoxication.

With him was another man, broader across the shoulder and carrying a cane, on which gloved hands rested, though he did not use it, possibly for fear of the uncollected turds that Than sincerely hoped were produced by the livestock that swarmed Altea in place of more modern vehicles that could be easily afforded were the people less impoverished.

The other companion was a tiefling, though his demonic appearance was much more exaggerated than the natives, high, overwrought horns giving him the appearance almost of a qunari, tanned from deep red to dark black, and with a set of sideburns that set off a suspicious glance that gave no reassurance to his visage; perhaps a bodyguard, certainly a hand rested on his sword.

The tiefling was given a lot of side glances, but nothing that lingered as it seemed there were a few among their number which seemed to have no mix of something. One group of women were attending to the passerbys attempting to catch the attention of the potentially rich ‘patrons’. A woman slapped a man who had perhaps grabbed her butt unsolicited.

“EY! No hands on the merchandise. You want it you buy it, you don’t get no more than that. I’m a wench but even I got standards!” She shouted as she grabbed a bucket of water and threw it at the man as he skittered away. “Wotcher looking at, there? Want to have a good time?” She asked the Tiefling curiously. “Oh, and a handsome one there, with you. How about it gents? It’s a good ride!”

“You reminded me of something long passed,” he said, “for a moment, no more...” he said, aiming a half-hearted claw-laden swipe at the fellow who was running.

“Indeed, that is rather what we’re looking for...” Than said, as his companion indulged the urge to punish. “Though I do hope we can find somewhere a little more comfortable,” he said.

“Course we can, I gots me a boudoir a bit around here if yer interested. Got many more where it comes from as long as ye don’t piss off Athis.”

“Ah good, I was hoping you’d say that. I did hope we’d be too much for one...” he said.

“Now, now, we have all the time you’re willing to spend, and since time is money we expect to give you something more worth it than not!” The woman said with a slight tease. “Now come along and I can take you to someplace more private, and beautiful. Whaddya say, handsome?”

“Certainly,” he said, holding out an arm for her.

She led him to a less ramshackle home which seemed to be one of the few in the area that had an actual foundation, and it also seemed to possess a functioning electrical and plumbing along with a lavishly furnished garden patio. It was odd however that the woman’s clothing did not seem to fit with the general housing complex, which made her look odd and out of place.

“Nice,” Than lied, following along with a smile, aiming to look lascivious and not quite managing, scent did not quite disguise something desperate about his companion that stimulated instincts quite distinct from attraction. As the woman led them into the home, there was a distinctly perfumed smell with which it was an attempt to overpower the putrid odor outside. It worked a little bit as it seemed to be air conditioned and there was at least a modest attempt to curb the windows being opened and the the doors as well from being opened. As she led him in, there seemed to be a group of women who seemed to curiously observe the pair. There were women of various races and species, and of course some men. They were all oddly young however, with very few of them who had reached the age of determination, and if they did, they were still of a youthful countenance.

“So, you brought a pair in, good job, Levanna, what can I get for you today?” One of the older men asked, as he seemed to be the local pimp.

“Trio, man, can you not count?” the Tiefling said, with a tone of unreasonable annoyance, as though merely being here annoyed him.

“Well, ser please choose whomever appeals to your tastes the most. I am of course surprised that you being a man of means would only want one woman each, but whatever suits your tastes!” He said with a smirk and a nod of his head. “Now you know the rules ladies, please show our friends a good time.”

“My good man,” Than said, “I like to at least hear the rates before I begin!” he protested.

“This depends on your choice, as we do know my ladies are perhaps the finest maidens in this sludgepot of a city. Now we even actually manage to find virgins for those who desire a tight tumble, but of course, they’re more pricy than your average barmaiden and wench.” The pimp said with a smirk. “So we have Lyriel here who is a beautiful woman, a Tor with those beautiful blue drooping eyes. She’s a virgin beauty and doesn’t mind a lot of punishment.” he said with a gesture. “A tumble with Lyriel can depend on what you intend to do time-wise. Let’s say about a half a grand per hour? Of course there’s also Anariya who is a beautiful Aurothi with a buxom body and experience in the best kind of domination that most around here could vouch on. She’s half that price, and Daniria is a new girl who is always willing to play teacher and naughty student. Let’s say about a three hundred thirty four?”

“That would be about three hundred thirty four currents, yes?” he asked, sounding vaguely disaffected.

“Eleven hundred eighty four an hour for all three of these fine women per hour, including all toys and all extra minutae to make the experience as enjoyable as possible. Now, what do you say, then?”

“I say one thousand, and the understanding that you’ll do well to have our business,” the other human said, “We’re tourists, not morons.”

“Very well, you have a deal, One thousand and not a pence more.” The man said with a smirk. “That’s a good deal then!”

He took a small purse of monies from his belt and held them out, “There you go...” he said. Perhaps worryingly these were silver coins, with an Altean lion and an elven woman’s head on the back, stamped in denominations of fifty and enchanted to flash just so in the light.

“And of course, we can’t leave Levanna out...” Than said.

“What is this nonsense. I didn’t get for offering silve- what are those? Are those actual coins?” The man looked confused and examined the coins blankly for a moment and looked as if he was unsure whether or not it was valuable foreign currency because they said they were tourists, so perhaps they were foreign coins. As he examined them they certainly looked foreign, as they had a foreign monarch on them.

“Ain’t that an elven lass? Looks like a ‘S-ee-ree-thee-ul nahs fehanur?” The man said as he struggled to read the name, not quite as literate as he professed. “Good enough.”

“Good man, now what for Levanna’s company as well?” Than’s human companion asked.

“A hundred thirty an hour. She’s a cheap wench.” The man said dismissively, “But since she brought you here, we can do some ‘gratis’, and I’ll give ya her for free for the time you take with the other ladies.”

The tiefling growled, ever so quietly, and Than nodded, “Excellent,” he said, “Levanna dear, if you would...” he said, waving toward the door.

“This way, Sers. I’ll happily treat you to the best time we can give you.” She said as she led them into a comfortable room with clean sheets and a soft bed for use by the prostitutes and naturally there were also sex toys and other kinky costumes with all sorts of interesting objects that seemed to be unused and clean. The prostitute began to kiss Than, and massaged him as she attempted to make him comfortable.

He sat, with the others, and pulled her onto his lap, letting her kiss him, but seeming disinclined to kiss her, unusually, “So, Levanna, what’s available then?” he asked, waving Lyriel down next to him.

“Anything you want, the customer’s desires are always the best. So if you want me to slather myself up in something or you want to beat me raw and red, I’m willing to do it, and make you happy.” Levanna said as the others were given warm massages by the women, with Lyriel still attempting to learn how to do things right, as she seemed not all too sure how to do it for the first time. She took notes from the more experienced women, and felt more comfortable following their lead.

“Do people often want to beat you?” Than asked, attempting to sound shocked, not quite succeeding.

“ ‘course they do. If they wanted a good girl, they would stay with their wifes. They seek out people like me to do things their wives won’t do.”

“May I see?” he asked, seemingly intrigued.

“Of course, I’m always willing to show whatever my master wishes.” She said as she removed her clothes and kissed the C’tani gleefully.

He still held back a little, “Not on the lips,” he said, which was an unusual role reversal of the cliche, he reflected.

“Yes, my Master.” The woman said as she began to massage him and attempted to unbutton his long coat. She was not sure if he was actually up to having his pleasures met, and seemed to wonder why. “Are you okay?” She asked as she was already undressed along with her comrades. They were beautiful women, and seemed to be well formed in their nudity and comfortable with it.

“Perhaps not,” he said, and gave the impression of nerves, “Perhaps I would like to ask a few questions first...” he began.

“Tell me what you want me to ask, perhaps let’s make it a game so you feel less nervous. We play two lies one truth. You ask three questions: One answer will be the truth, and then two are lies. You get to learn more and have fun while we do so.”

Than frowned, “How much of what you’re paid do you actually get?” he asked.

“All of it! It goes into stuff we already paid for.” the coquettish girl said with a smile as she leaned in and made herself more comfortable. “What’s yer second question?”

“Where are you from?” he asked.

“The Imperial City of Anion. Glittering gem of all the ‘provinces’.” The girl said as one of the others giggled. She clearly knew it was nothing like the legends made of it, thus knew that this was a lie.

“And how well are you treated here?” he asked, it was a poor question he knew.

“Some patrons treat me like a Princess, some treat me like a beast, but that’s okay, because it’s how they are. If you ask me how the boss treats me, it depends on his mood.”

“The last one is the truth,” he said.

“Clever man, and now it’s my turn. Where were you born?” She asked with piqued interest as his accent was rustic and attractive, and she had no idea where he had gotten it from. It was almost like hearing a Northman speak with a brogue that was civilized. That would be impossible, so he was clearly foreign.

“I was born in the Achilus Provincial Hospital, on the planet of Karlack, in the Ctan Empire...” he said. “Next!”

“What is your favorite movie?” She asked with a smile as she always wondered what foreign films were like, and naturally she had no idea what they called them out there.

“I have never seen a movie,” he said.

“What’s something that you feel is more worthwhile than anything in the world.”

“I should think it would be satisfaction...” he said, not really an answer.

“Clearly the first one is true. The C’tan ‘ey, s’far away. Really far. I’m surprised you’ve come here for tourism. It’s more common for people to enjoy the glittering city and the vast countryside, and not this shithole.” She said unapologetically.

“Well I’m sure this place has something to recommend it; besides which it’s cheap.”

“Fair enough, it’s your turn, now.” She asked as she held him closer. “Ask me anything, and I’ll answer.”

“What made you decide to work here?” he asked.

“I wanted to be a showgirl, and to be famous. I wanted to be in movies, and the porno women were way hotter than I was, so I got turned down.” She said with a smirk. “But that’s just one reason.”

“Was your previous answer truthful?” he asked, with a teasing tone.

“Hoh, that’s a good question, ‘course it’s true!” She said with a chuckle, as she saw he was getting more clever by the minute. She couldn’t say she disliked it. “But that’s your second question? Perfect waste of a question. But it’s your turn again. Last one.” She whispered. “Then it’s my turn.”

“Was your first answer untruthful?” he asked.

“Nope not true at all! You’ve cheated you have, but it’s my turn now! Have you decided which statement was true?”

“The last one,” he said, “the third one cannot be a lie unless the first is true, which would mean you gave two correct answers, while the second one likewise can’t be correct as that would imply two correct answers.”

“Bingo.” She said with a smirk. “But my turn’s come up. So, do you have a family?” She asked. “Wife, kids, picket fenced home with the fixin’s?” She asked curiously.

“Assuredly, more than you can count.” He said.

“Hm, let’s see… have you ever learned from the fancy schools they have in the far lands?” She asked as she carefully worded her statement. She didn’t want him to think that she was questioning his social class. That could possibly set him off and she did like him as he was so far.

“Of course,” he said, “everyone does where I come from...” he said, “even the beastlings!”

“Let’s see… my last one is.. are you from a noble family?” She asked as she examined his clothing and found it to be quite lavish.

“My family is not at all noble,” he said, “Unless it is... hard to give a yes/no answer...” he said, “It is definitely a noble family in the sense you mean it, yes...” he said.

“Hmmm your last one is probably right because you put a lot of thought in it. Plus you don’t look like the kind who makes himself a wife in every town. I know those types. I used to have ‘em come to me all the time.” She said as she prompted to see if it was the truth as she looked at him with curiosity as there was a loud thump from the hall. One of the girl looked out for a moment, curiosity overcoming her. She seemed to be a little worried, but said nothing as she shut the door again. The tiefling was on his feet rather quickly, hand on the hilt of his sword, pistol ignored.

“What was that?” he demanded.

“Customer may have taken things a bit far, it’s alright. No one’s dead.” She said as if it were a common occurrence. She didn’t seem to pay it much mind. “It’s not a big deal.” She said with a wave of her hand.

He stepped toward the door as if on impulse, reaching to open it.

The woman did not stop him from opening the door, and as it opened there was a bruised and battered young man, and there were marks and bruises around his neck, and his eyes were streaming with tears. They were red around his sclera, but his iris was simply black. It was like staring into a blank tunnel of darkness. His hair was chocolate brown and he seemed to have a goatee and a pair of horns on his head. He was panting but didn’t say a word. He climbed to his feet completely naked and tried to get a balance on his feet.

The girl slightly attempted to tug the customer back in her room. “Are you alright?” She asked the customer as she seemed to be confused by his unease. The customer that was leaving seemed to be nonplussed by the damage caused to the young tiefling boy. He merely was disappointed by the fact that he was being sent out for a time out.

The C’tani tiefling followed, leaving the room without a word, and Than sighed, saying something in necrontyr, and then looking at Levanna, “We’ll be back... probably...” he said.

“Uh oh… so you won’t be… That was… short?” She said taken aback by the small amount of time he spent with her, but was worried that she was not going to get any of them paid. She also seemed to distinctively think she had offended him, and made him leave.

“You there!” the first of them said, as he followed the customer, the tone he used quite at odds with his appearance, not in that it was forceful, but that it was one habitually accustomed to obedience. “Halt!”

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” The customer asked as he looked over at the C’tani with confusion. “What can I do for you?”

“You can account for what you did to that boy in there,” he said, “and be quick about it!” he added, the last few words almost running into one as the other two C’tani followed him out.

“Hm? What about it?” The man asked. “I paid for my time with him.” The man said with confusion. “I can do what I wish, but… I think perhaps I was a little overdone this time. Well, he’s alive. Good enough, right? If he DID die, I’ve enough money to pay the blood price.”

“That is your account, is it?” he asked, not surprised, with the tone of a man whose expectations were so low that they could not be failed.

“I’ll be back later. I need to wait, or he might die.” The man said surprised that this stranger seemed to question his intentions.

The C’tani tiefling turned his back on the customer, and then walked back to the house, pausing at the last moment, “Later tonight?” he asked, half turning to look at the man, with a look as if torn on some issue of what to do. The matter of justice was clear, but arresting the fellow now would mean that their cover would be gone, and then the other matter would not be resolved.

“I paid for my time, I will get it back.” He said menacing the young tiefling for a moment before stepping outside and tightening his tie. He headed out as the young man was helped to his feet by one of the older women and she examined his bruises which were deep black and blue. He barely survived, and it showed as he was still terribly disoriented. The other women seemed to be confused as Than’s partner returned.

Than and the other two returned, talking animatedly in their own language for a moment, before Than looked at Levanna, “You got it wrong, by the by,” he said.

“I did?” She asked delighted that the attention came back. “Which one was the truth?” The girl asked curiously as a man approached the tiefling boy and angrily censured him outside the area. The words he spoke was clearly in another language, but what was said was unclear.

“Bring the lad in here!” the other human C’tani shouted, apparently annoyed at the commotion, “If you’re not going to help him then let me.”

The tiefling looked confused at the sound of the voices, still garbled as the other prostitute led him to the C’tani man. She whispered to the man with a sense of disquiet.

“He’s not strong enough for anything at the moment, honored customer. I apologize for the inconvenience. I understand he is appealing, but he needs res-” She started as she looked over at the man who had yelled at the boy and stopped talking.

“It’s alright.” The tiefling boy said with a strain and as if it took effort to speak. “I’ll go. You, go. Don’t worry.” He said as the woman felt him let go of her and he opened the door where the C’tani were and tried to make out which way they were and he dry heaved for a moment as he approached the bed.

“I am here to please my customers. How can I?” He lie on the bed for a moment and his eyes began to sting again as tears streamed down his face. “How can I help you this evening?”

“Relax, you aren’t here to serve,” he said, picking up the cane, and laying it down beside him, “Close your eyes, and listen only to my voice.”

He shut his eyes and was still heaving as he carefully attempted to breathe, and it was difficult for him to speak. One of the women seemed to look at the boy with pity and covered him with a blanket and then gave him a brush of his hair with her hand.

“Poor lad… That’s the third time this week.” She said as she attempted to look around the room for an icebox and put it upon his neck which made him quickly recoil from the pain.

“A moment, please,” the C’tani said, holding his hand lightly against the youth’s neck, hand positioned facing away from him, fingers down, two fingers touching, as if taking his pulse, the gesture actually evolved to make it easy to tell that he wasn’t choking the child from a distance, rather than for any benefit to the patient.

The young boy didn’t seem to struggle, he was too exhausted and he didn’t seem to know what the C’tani was doing. He just noticed that his eyes were shut and he took effort to do nothing but listen to the soothing voice as it spoke to him.

“Is he going to…” One of the girls asked as she seemed to not be sure that this would be something the boy would be able to walk away from. “Is he going to make it?”

The C’tani man sitting on the bed held his hand over the boy’s head, “Hail to you Shu, lord of the Air, who is First Born among the Nine Holy Ones, it is I, Auset, your Daughter's Daughter who calls to you. Enter into this man and give to him the Breath of Life. See Injustice, Oh Netjer and make haste to mend what is broken and to restore Ma’at, Most Excellent aid to those in Need, tarry not in this task lest you be found wanting in the sight of Auset and of Amun!” he said, and it seemed as if a clean fresh breeze blew from his mouth as he exhaled, bruising flowing back. Healing spells were sometimes made to sound simple, but to C’tani at least, there was no shortage of complexities in such things, from staunching bleeding to mending bones, in this case, the spell was focussed as much as restoring the damage done to the boy’s lungs as anything else, but also healing the carotid arteries, making whole what had been compressed and damaged. The theurgistic healing of the Aligrethans was distinct from many others, in that it as much took pains to command the spirits and gods called upon as it did to flatter and request of them, going so far in some cases, as this, to include consequences for failure. The boy’s bruises and external bleeding wounds were beginning to disappear as he instinctively reached for his neck and touched it with his fingertip, expecting that he’d feel pain, but to his surprise he was not pained by the injuries.

“I… thank you. For a second there I thought you were going to kill me. It’s not often someone invokes a god to help me, only ‘Gods curse you and your ancestors, rot in the gutter, beast of beasts. Son of a Demon, repent your ways’ etcetera.” The boy said weakly. “I owe you and your God a thanks. Are you… some sort of templar?” The boy asked as he seemed to be calming down. His breath calming down.

“That I am,” he said, “Pleased to meet you. The name’s Sherin Ali of House Atun.”

“The name’s Finn. I’ve not a house name, but I work for the Pleasure Quarters and also the Sharpbolt Coterie. Tried to get out, but have been working off the debt here. Apparently I’ve been biting off more than I can chew. Maybe I should just go back to the coterie.” He said with a sigh. “I can’t handle this. Next time I might not be so lucky to meet a handsome templar to save my life.” Finn said with a wink.

“You owe them money here?” he asked.

“My sister got the coughing sickness. I tried to work off a massive hospital bill, and I borrowed some money for the coterie with a lot of interest attached. I didn’t care at the time, I was desperate and wanted to save my sister’s life. Now all I have is her memory because she didn’t manage to make it. Died of malnutrition connected with her sickness, and I got left with a massive debt I can hardly expect to pay off. So now I work here, it’s not like anyone else offers me jobs out of here, and the coterie trusted my sword-arm… but I’m not… I don’t like working for them very much.”

“And so here you are? Who are this Coterie?” he asked.

“They’re a… less than legal mercenary corporation… which may be connected with mithril smuggling, but I don’t ask questions. They gave me money, and at the time that was all that mattered. Surely I thought, ‘all that mattered was that they tried to help me save Elise, and that’s all that came to mind… I at least owe them for four more months with her. It was just...I wished things had gone differently.” Finn said with a frown. “But… I imagine you’re used to Altean pity parties, am I right? You don’t look like your typical tourists.”

“How much is that?” he asked.

“Let’s see, that was ten thousand dollars for seven months. Then we have a five hundred percent interest on the loan… Well, I can’t give you a full estimate, but it’s probably more than I make in a year. Even if I killed fifty men per day.”

“Yeah, I’m not paying that,” he said.

“Oh my, I wasn’t expecting you do, Ser. I’m actually surprised you asked. This is not something people commonly give much thought when they’re speaking to a prostitute.” He said quite openly. “Not that I expect you in any way to consider what I do as anything more than what I can give, but perhaps I’d just be better off if I rejoined the coterie. This isn’t giving much of a dent on my financial troubles.”

“Oh I don’t think so, mithril smuggling is not a business you want to be involved in,” he said, “Have you considered just leaving? It seems you have no family here...”

“I’ve no reason to stay, but I can’t afford to leave. I’ve been trying for quite some time to just pack off and leave, but again, I have debts that made your toes curl, and I’ve no foreign contacts or connections, no marketable skills except for things most likely illegal in your lands or anywhere. I’m good at making people’s toes curl in a different way, but most would say ‘go to school, you are too young’, and I’ve another skill which is to smash and break things that would probably get me executed in the outlands. Luckily being a part of the coterie has at least afforded me enough that people look the other way. For now at least, eventually the C’tan will probably discover us, and I’ll be among the dead, but that’s just how the world works.” One of the women, Levanna gasped as she knew the men were from the C’tan.

“We try to avoid killing anyone except the leaders of criminal organizations,” Than said, “It’s just often the footsoldiers try and fight, or do something foolish. Not that I reccommend going back.”

“So you are C’tani. I can kind of tell by your accents. You sound similar to a C’tani I heard once before. I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this. It feels like being with a priest in a confessional. Ack, I am so screwed either way, but I don’t know… somehow you seem trustworthy.”

Sherin nodded, “I have that effect on people,” he said, “Well you have some foreign contacts now, Finn.”

Finn laughed and looked at Sherin with a smirk. “Somehow I don’t think they have many temple prostitutes where you’re from. Mind, if they did, I don’t know if they’d employ a demon’s child. Wouldn’t that give them pause? I’m sure your friend here,” He gestured to the other tiefling chap. “Has had better opportunities than I, but I’m not sure what job references he can give me.”

“Yes, temple prostitutes exist, you aren’t nearly old enough to be one, and no, we are not bothered either by demons or by demons’ children,” he said, “And you wouldn’t really need any job references as a minor.”

“I’d need it to work off my debt, what would I do otherwise. The Coterie doesn’t just say, ‘ah, all that money we gave you is gone, now how’s about a chance for you to fly away with naught a penny to be paid back to us.’ They’d kill me. I mean, well, they’d try. I’m not one easily killed.”

“And they’d have a challenge finding you, it’s rather less likely than your coming to a bad end here... besides, they’d have to fight...”

“Maybe, it sounds like a good deal, but what will I do to get there. I don’t imagine they have free flights to C’tan, sign your soul here. I mean, well… not that I’d be all that hard pressed to do such a thing at any rate. If anyone could find me a way out of here, I’d be more than grateful to give them just about anything… well… short of my life.”

“We can arrange such a flight...” Than said, “it is one of the perks of having a huge occupation force. You probably won’t get a meal on the flight.”

“I’m not expecting one! All the better,” Finn said with a chuckle as he looked over his shoulder and saw at the door Ellis was waving him over. “Argh… duty calls?” he wasn’t sure what Ellis wanted but it seemed serious. “I still owe you and your God something, don’t leave before I can think of something. I’m sure we could work something out.”

“Very well...” Sherin said, standing, taking his cane, looking to the other tiefling. “Mind if we tag along for a moment?”

“Can’t see why that would be a problem. Come along then, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.” He said with a crack of his shoulders as he got up and he headed toward the western wing of the house and he was being led by an older looking man.

“Excuse me, sers. This area is employees only, if there is anything I can help you with, I’m more than willing to provide. For the meantime, Finn shall be occupied.” Ellis said as he looked at Than and Sherin and their accompanying tiefling with a bit of resigned exhaustion. “And no, it’s not negotiable.”

“If you could be so good as to get the manager of this fine establishment,” Than said, his tone dissembling, privileged and entitled, “I should like to speak to him at once. Be so good as to fetch him, man.”

“Yes, Ser. I shall summon him right away. Just a moment while I call my supervisor.” Ellis said as he dialed his phone and began to pace in the hallway waiting, and he was distracted. There was a crossway in the area, and there was a uniform area which seemed to be similar in each of the halls. The floor was made of smooth stone that was polished, and the walls were smooth and made of wood. The windows were high and there were draping white curtains that were opaque. Once closed the area would be completely dark. There were also only small hanging lamps which seemed to be made to look like decorative lanterns. These were of course not as ornate as the hanging paintings which were deliberately having depicted sensual scenes from old Altean tales. One of them was “Aeri and Anders.” and the lovers were intertwined by a grassy knoll upon a smooth exotic Palomecian Blanket.

Sherin paced quietly, nudging one of the paintings as if it were misaligned for a moment experimentally.

The painting being moved seemed to unlock something down the hallway, but what it was, seemed to be unclear. There was a distinctive click.

He hefted the rod in one hand, then two, speaking a syllable of some strange tongue, “Gat!” Almost immediately Than’s hand flew to his belt, snatching the pistol there from its holster, while their other companion drew his sword on instinctive response to the warning.

The prostitute seemed to look over at the pair and put his hands up and seemed to cover his head with his hands as he got down, “I’m not going to resist just don’t shoot me!” The prostitute said as he attempted to get down, but the unlocked door ahead seemed to be having a pair of men filtering around the corner.

“What are you all doing! Stop messing with things in the area, wait holy crap you’re armed. Lower your weapon please!” The guard said half heartedly mumbling “they don’t pay me enough for this.”

“Get into cover,” Than said, and the tiefling carefully opened the door the man had barred him from, as the other two entered behind him, Sherin covering the first man. “Do not move, either of you,” he shouted to the guards, taking aim at them.

“Likewise, what are you, cops or summat?” The tall thin guard asked as the short fat guard looked at the pair.

“Don’t look much like cops, I say. Not even wearing a uniform. Don’t be daft.”

“Not all cops wear uniforms you dolt. Some of them wear a badge on their inside jacket.”

“Wouldn’t that be a uniform, I verily think that they would have a uniform then if that is the case. Do you have a jacket badge?” The thin guard asked as he looked over at the pair.

Than ignored the question, stepping into the next room with his companions, keeping the guards covered..

Inside the room there seemed to be several pathways open, but strangely enough the guards were just continuing to argue with one another about what does or does not constitute a uniform, and they didn’t realize that the trio had already left. As they seemed to be in what looked like a promenade hall, it was oddly quiet except for the rustling of the wind from a side window. The doors in the promenade hall were all leading into a ballroom that may at one point have been occupied, but there was also another hallway which seemed to lead into a winding passage, and a corkscrew staircase leading up and down a floor.

They paused briefly, the other two switching to firearms too, the same model, broad barreled short weapons, as they paused. “What was it?” Than asked.

“The room, was set up as a trap,” Sherin said, “Some kind of mechanism I triggered called the guards in.”

“Right... You two!” The tiefling shouted in accented common, “come in here, right away!”

Than touched a point behind his ear and began to speak, calling for reinforcements.

The two guards realized they had gone ahead finally and gave chase and there was a fire alarm which went off, and the ceiling sprinklers went off, making a few women and customers shouting in surprise. They went past Ellis when the guards then gave chase. “Halt! You’re not really supposed to be back there!”

“Wait, how did they get past us in the first place. Are they ninjas or somethin’? ”

Sherin shot them both. The weapons were much the same as had been used by the Orderites, though smaller, low velocity nerve-shock rounds.

The guards were felled and cursed angrily as they were not actually expecting to be shot, but then again, they weren’t expecting the ninjas either. This would be one day to write home about. The sprinklers and fire alarms were still going off, and it seemed to be unclear where there was a fire if there even was one at all. Ellis still rushed away from the scene evacuating the area. The prostitutes, believing there was a fire also began to vacate the premises in a less than orderly fashion which included quite a bit of screaming and confusion.

The C’tani were still in the hall, which was now moist and slippery as the water from the sprinklers were now raining on the smoothly polished stone floors. The way ahead was unclear.

The mission appeared to be so far from what was actually happening now that it could as easily have been on another planet. They lowered their weapons, looking at one another for a moment.

“The murderer,” the Tiefling said, attempting to reckon which way Finn might have gone, and ending up with no sign of him to work from, picking at random.

“Fire on every customer or guard you see...” Sherin said.

The guards that seemed to be heading back into the building were headed toward the western passage. There was an identifiable shout as the group could see about six guards attempting to head back away from them, and they seemed to be uninterested in them, oddly enough.

They were about to get interested, as the C’tani opened fire, the Tiefling particularly without much regard for aiming, had switched the gravbolter pistol into a fully automatic mode and sprayed down the corridor as the other two took more measured shots. The guards seemed to be shocked and then fired in their direction after perceiving a threat from that direction. There was a strange roar from down the hall, and it didn’t seem to be identifiable. The roar was followed by the sounds of bones cracking and flesh being incinerated.

“What in the name of Wesir was that?” Sherin asked.

“Underground fighting ring...” the tiefling suggested, grunting slightly as the armoured version of the Menelmacari-style clothing took a glancing hit and he gave up on morale efforts and aimed more closely to pick targets. As he did the targets he aimed at fell quite rapidly as they connected. The guards were quite easily wiped out, given that they were not professionals. The other way around lead to the basement. There was of course continued cheering as they got closer. It would seem the tiefling’s guess was spot on, but something was wrong. There was screaming from the basement as well that didn’t seem to fit.

“Beastling baiting,” he said. “Switch to live ammunition.” They paused only briefly to check the ammunition types as they reloaded, this time, something rather more formidable.

“The trap was probably to stop the poor bastards escaping...” Than said as they moved on.

The group of people filtering out of the basement began to trip over themselves and they seemed to notice that the C’tani were armed.

“Oh Thank the Gods, you need to get down there quick! There are monsters down there attacking, you’ve for to stop them!” the man said with a twitch of his black mustache.

They paused, just for a moment, each wondering if the previous order about shooting all the customers should stand. It probably ought to, but there was no proof, and so they passed through, Than sending another report to the nearby (and getting rapidly nearer) necrons.

As they headed down the stairs they could see the fighting ring, and there were several open cages. Among the cages were the corpses of several men, apparently gamblers who had been torn literally limb from limb. The beastlings in the corner were still in a rage with one minotaur still Tearing flesh off bone and whacking a dead slaver’s corpse with it. The brutality was gobsmackingly surprising. The minotaur spotted the C’tani and growled angrily and with the ripped off femur he attempted to wave it threateningly. No words were spoken.

Than looked at the Minotaur for a moment, taking half a second to consider the best way to talk this through. Then he shot one of the spectators as she tried to flee; the bolter round in this case a live one, a distinctive shriek followed by a wet thud of internal explosion inside the target; extremely messy.

“Death to the slaver!” he shouted.

The oxman lowered the bone and examined the C’tani carefully and spoke with very accented common, which suggested that it most certainly was not his first language.

“You are Abolitionist?” He asked as he dropped the femur and stepped toward them cautiously. “The doors, they opened. They let us out they say. This is you?”

“Abolitionist yes, our doing, no,” he said, snapping off another shot at one of the audience, which went wide and smashed several seats to kindling, as Sherin pushed past him.

The spectators were splattered into bone fragments and splattered flesh as they seemed to go down quickly as the Minotaur had managed to rough them up quite messily. He was unarmed and used his talents in the ring to manage to free the others once his cage was unlatched. He examined the people around him for any objects that looked remotely useful, but didn’t seem to see any gold on them.

“Hm, how very strange. This is something that makes little sense. Who unlocked the cage?” He asked as the other beastlings began to escape the basement and brutally tore anyone who tried to stop them from escaping, and other guards who attempted to kill them.

“Perhaps it was the ghoul-child then?” The Minotaur said with a confused expression.

“Perhaps,” Than said, reloading again, this time conserving his ammunition for when the armed guards appeared, passing his sword to one of the beastlings, as the other two did likewise.

“Is he here?” Sherin asked.

“Last I heard, he was with his master with the hitting stick, and they seemed angry. They spoke in that language I couldn’t understand. They went up to the third floor on the elevator, but I don’t know where that leads.” The beastling said with confusion. “But perhaps that is how the ghoul-child was able to release us?”

“Perhaps,” Than said, “Are any of you injured?” he asked.

“Some of us are dead. But it was a good death. Taking down slavers is always a good death. I imagine you have watched your friends and family die before, have you?” The Minotaur asked with a raised eyebrow, not believing that his circumstances were outstanding.

“Another time,” Sherin said, taking out a baton made of black zalantar wood, wrought into a single piece, and flicking it with his wrist, the motion and the grip triggering the core of the device, made of living metal to extend, the inter-atomic gaps in the metal changing as it altered its bonding state, becoming a slim bar, almost two feet in length, “Here, take this,” he said, passing it to one of the other gladiators, and passing his cane to another, “It will shock on impact,” and how, as Than and the tiefling passed their own backup weapons over. “Let’s get some guns.”

“We owe you for this one kammeraad.” The minotaur said as he took the SAP baton and rushed up the stairs and attempted to give cover to the small, weak, and injured beastlings. The area was quiet once more as they cleared out carefully. This left Than and Sherin and the tiefling in the empty arena room, with the smell of bloody dismembered corpses left behind. The way to the west was clear and left open, and the stairway led up, there was also an elevator in the north section. Along the south section was several gnarled metal cages, all of which were left open with the small bits of straw left strewn about. It had a terrible putrid scent the closer one got to it. There was a few others objects of interest around.

“Well that was... impetuous,” Sherin said, as they hared off. “How long until the necrons are here?”

“Minutes,” Than said.

The Tiefling frowned, “Go with them, Than and I will continue,” he said, running toward the stairs, which they bolted into without a second thought.

The way up the stairs was direct, as their steps clattered on the old wood, the area up the stairs led into an old office on the third floor, and it was lavishly furnished as the pair could hear rather heated discussion in the next room. While the floors on the first and ground floor were heavy for privacy, the office doors were paper thin. The voices were both recognizable. One was the young Finn who sound oddly shrill with his voice trembling, and quavering. The other was the older man’s that they heard before. It was cold and angry.

“But you’ll end up with a large debt with the coterie, and you don’t want to cross them… It’s it’s not a good idea, look, you’re better off keeping me here and alive so I can… I can make it less, look I know I made a mistake, I didn’t know they were C’tani. I had no idea, I’m not a traitor. Please!” He shouted as there was a nasty cracking noise up ahead and he let out a shout.

“Regardless, I am hearing that your shitty petty revenge against Morthol got him arrested and now has brought C’tani here, you KNOW what is going to happen, and at this point, I am pretty fucking sure the whole police station will be here in half an hour at the least. I am not covering for you. Your life is forfeit already, demon. I will tell them everything you have done. I will sing like a canary, because they like a compliant witness.”

Upon hearing this as they approached, the two paused at the door, the Tiefling reaching for his sword only to find it gone, frowning slightly, and summoning his will as Than shot the lock off; from a few paces back, the bolt exploding on burying itself into the wall, and then throwing the door open. As he did, his companion released the magic in his blood, stygian darkness seeming to crawl from the sides of the room to fill it completely, and the adjacent room, Than and his companion diving away from the door as they passed through.

The young tiefling was on the ground and appeared to have bruises and cuts and the other man held his hands up over his head, and demonstrated that he was harmless. Than could see the room was filled with boxes and it seemed like the man was preparing to move and was packing. The man spoke with an obsequious and uncharacteristically shrill voice.

“I surrender!” He said as he looked at Than with his hands placed on his head. “I’ll come quietly. The room was pitch black after a few moments.

Finn coughed a little as he caught his breath and looked over at the pair and sighed. He didn’t move immediately but then he pressed his weight against the floor, disoriented from the darkness and he stood, not knowing which way was the one he was supposed to be facing particularly.

There was a prowling beast in the room, it seemed, from the sounds, but it was difficult to locate exactly where it was...

“Where are you?” Finn asked as he got into a defensive stance and swung his fists randomly in the air, not sure what to hit. “Come out! Come out! I’m ready for you!”

It wasn’t the boy that was its target however, and the C’tani Tiefling attacked the pimp-slaver with a snarl of released rage, striking at his head with the solid butt of the gravbolter pistol. The pimp was knocked aside, his jaw seeming to lock up as he was knocked silly to the ground. This sound made the young tiefling boy gasp with worry as he growled and fought the shadows desperately and kept attempting to get a view of whatever was attacking.

“I said I surrender, you are C’tani aren’t you? Or… oh fuck it’s a beastman mage. I thought Javen dealt with them already!” The Pimp then reached down blankly attempting to find his cane, and so that he could defend himself from the potential beastman mage.

The prospect of being less feared than one of the natives did not apparently sit well with the Ctani, who grappled with the cane, muscular tail smacking the fellow’s arm even as the gun was pressed to his head, and Than moved around to stand next to them, and the darkness receded.

“Wait… you’re not C’tani… wait what the fuck ARE you?” He asked as he felt the barrel of the gun against his skin, making him gasp as he saw what looked like a tiefling and a human. “Look, I don’t know if he’s your kid or not, but YOU CAN HAVE HIM BACK!”

There was a strange metallic shredding sound from somewhere nearby as a squad of necrons made its arrival felt on the fleeing spectators, quite what they were doing wasn’t to be told from this distance, but it was probably nothing good. The Tiefling, notably more demonic in appearance, grabbed the cane and flung it away.

“I surrender, I said! I will not resist!” The man shouted as he kept his hands up and Finn looked at the pair for a moment.

“H-Heeey, it’s you guys… I-I thought…” He started as the pimp looked over at them and pointed at Finn.

“This young man is a murderer for the Coterie! I’ve heard him confess to the crime and am willing to cooperate as a witness against him.”

The C’tani grabbed him and pulled him onto his belly, cuffing his wrists behind him with one hand keeping him covered with the other. “Remind me how it goes?” he asked.

“Damned if I know,” Than said, “You’re under arrest, shit for brains, if you say anything we’ll probably fuck you up with it if you get to a court.”

“IF?” He asked with a blank expression for a moment. “I am a witness. I am not a criminal. I am merely a landlord.”

“Ah, here we go,” Than said, pulling out a card, “You are under arrest on suspicion of slavery. You are warned that anything you say may be used to establish your guilt before a court of law. You have the right not to answer any questions, if you so choose, and the right to legal counsel, if you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be assigned to you. Any attempt to escape may be met with lethal force...”

“Are you okay Finn?” Than asked.

“I’m not dead.” He said with a small laugh. “Thought for a moment, I thought you were going to kill me, I couldn’t see a damned thing. What was with all that loud noise downstairs?”

“Necrons arriving, they’ve orders to rescue the beastlings and put the audience to the sword,” Than said, “Well, capture them at least. Sleeping Ones, we’ll need another wing at this rate...”

“What’s Sleeping Ones?” The Pimp asked randomly wondering if there was some meaning to the phrase. “Look, I am not a slaver, I’m a landlord and I rent the rooms out to the whores. How they use the rooms is their own business.”

“Shut it, slaver. I want to hear one thing from you,” Than said, “I want to know where we can find a man called Ralthier, a fence. Tell me, and maybe, just maybe, I might look the other way for a bit...”

“Ralthier, you say? I might have heard of such a man. He lived by Ahriman the madman up and across the old slaughterhouse. There you will be able to find him. So I have your word that you’ll let me go?”

“No, we won’t. You’re coming with us, and when we have the man, then we’ll let you go. Up you get...” Than said. “Let’s go and find Sherin, eh?” he said, looking to Finn.

“Must I come with you, Than?” The boy asked as he looked over at the pimp with a nervous glance. “I mean, I don’t want to cause any trouble, but…” He made a meaningful glance at the group and caressed his injured shoulder for a moment as he tugged at his shirt slightly.

“He’ll help fix you up,” Than said, “Do you need me to carry you kid?”

“I think I can carry my se-err… walk myself. I can’t carry anything, come to think of it.” Finn seemed to laugh for a moment as he looked at Than with a tired sigh. “Though, having someone to lean on might be nice. I imagine walking might be trouble. I am curious though…”

He helped the boy up, and then, carefully holding his arm to prevent it jostling too much, held him in a fireman’s lift, there might still be guards about, and a bit of movement was necessary, “Careful now,” he warned, “what are you curious about?” he asked as they set off.

“My pimp said that you guys are cops, are you really cops, then?” He asked thickly as he hissed from the pain and leaned on Than carefully. “If so, I’m both a snitch and also a dead man, aren’t I? I told you everything.”

“We’re prison guards, actually, a bit of a personal mission we’re out on,” he said. “But as we’re off duty you’re not really snitching...” he said, “I say guards, I’m actually more the admin department, and Sherin’s really only staying with us because we’re short handed...” he said.

“Prison guards? So you guys aren’t cops? But… I presume you’ve called the cops. Look, I am not sure what will happen, but I’m letting you know ahead of time that there’s… no hard feelings. I’m sorry I got you all into such trouble.”

“Don’t worry about it, and by the by, it doesn’t really matter who you’ve stabbed. Just don’t do it again. And they don’t give you trouble for finding a slaver lair, if anything they give you awards.”

[Mystrian Altea]

“Don’t think I want any, it’ll only cause trouble… unless I scrape enough money to leave. You think someone will hire me somewhere out in your planet place?” The young man asked hopefully trying to see some sort of bright side to his predicament. If the coterie thought he was snitching he was in deeper shit than he realized. “What’s the best place to go in the C’tan, do you think?”

“For work, and education, Duat, really is good. But there’s no shortage of places where there’s jobs going. Aligreth’s got a lot of work without too many qualifications needed,” he said, as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Aligreth, huh? Is that where the uh… Sherin is from? Maybe I could see if I could work in one of his temples or something. His Gods are nice enough to not murder me, this is an interesting precedent and I am curious about it.”

“They don’t care what you look like, or who your parents were...” Than said, “my sister is one of their priestesses, given me the full lecture...” he said.

“Does she have an apprentice or something? Does she teach?” He asked curious, as he didn’t know Than had a sister and the feeling made his heart ache as he remembered his own sister and felt an itch in the back of his throat. “I mean, I’m probably asking a bit much… maybe I could learn from someone like her I mean.”

“If that’s what you want to do, they have schools too...” he said, as they stepped outside, expecting to see necrons, beastlings and captives.

The Beastlings seemed to be curious of the necrons, and a few carefully massaged the smooth hard living metal, seeing it as a novelty that was extra amusing, given that they also moved and spoke like people did. The young tiefling shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t know what I want to do, but I know what I don’t want to do. I’m tired of stealing, and I’m tired of killing. I am tired of being hurt and going to bed covered in bruises or bleeding from somewhere or smelling like blood. It’s really exhausting. I just want to sleep or something without dreading waking up in the morning.”

“Right,” he said, as Sherin walked up, looking at once sympathetic and vaguely irritated that someone had beaten the poor kid up right away, performing a lesser healing ritual this time, and looking at the landlord with an irritated glare.

“Did you do this?” Sherin asked.

“Hm, did I do it, young man?” The pimp asked the young tiefling as he glanced over.

“No, ser.” Finn said with a cringe.

“You have your answer.” The pimp said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Even the ‘victim’ says I didn’t. So I think this clears my name well enough.”

“He did it,” the C’tani tiefling said, and Sherin glared at him.

He held out his hand over the man’s head, and began to speak loudly, “The foes of Ra are turned away, and are utterly annihilated. No light will grant them blessing. They are cursed, and vindicated by none! I am Re, God of the Morning and Evening sun, I shall not let you eat, nor drink, in this life or the next, without the taste of excrement and the smell of urine upon you.”

“W-What the fuck...are you talking about?” He asked and remembered the odd beastman god across the border that was worshipped by some. “Look, I’m not into beastmen god things. I didn’t touch the kid, and he said so, no need to get all… My Gods what the fuck is that… urgh…” He started to gag as the scents and tastes became overwhelming and he dry heaved and panted as he spat trying to vainly get the taste out of his mouth. The man became exhausted as he tried to catch his breath with the disgust overcoming him. “What the hell did you do to me?”

“I am Shezmu, and I obey the commands of Re, that Ma’at may be upheld. To you I give naught of flesh, or of wine, or water, or ale or any other good thing, begone from my sight, you shall have nothing but what the Great God commands,” he said, and then walked off to tend to the beastlings again.

“I think he cursed you,” Than said.

“Well make him UN curse me I didn’t do anything to him!” The pimp shouted angrily. “You can’t believe how disgusting this is… remove whatever his thrice accursed gods have done to me.” He protested. “I’ve been nothing but cooperative!”

“Also you beat up small boys...” the C’tani tiefling said, as Sherin collected their weapons in.

“I did no such thing! Slander!” The man said with move gagging and he spat again. “Water… please, water!”

Than smirked, and held up a small hip flask, “Not water but close enough...” he said pouring some into the pimp’s mouth. Naturally it tasted of human waste.

He spat it out and tried to desperately wash the taste out, but found no relief at all. There was nothing that took away the flavor nor the overpowering odor of old putrid urine and day old shit. Levanna looked over at the pimp and seemed to be confused as to why the pimp was spitting and gagging and backed away in disgust. One of the other younger girls, a small child prostitute seemed to hold in a giggle as she looked over at Sherin with a sense of loving Adoration. She attempted to tug at his coat, and reached to hug him.

The beastlings were still plinking upon the necrons, utterly and completely fascinated. So fascinated that they did not witness the curse at all.

“He’s robot that talkssss.” One of the frogloks said with a garbled pronunciation of common. “Most peculiar!”

The Frogloks got some attention, various necrons posing with them and hugging them for some reason.

One of the Frogloks took a picture from one of the dead slaver’s phones and seemed to be pleased to get a bunch of terrible snapshots and maybe a few great ones. The rest had only part of a frog, and part of the necron, and the other had only part of the necron and no frog at all. They seemed to swarm a bit as a Saugahin was attempting to see what the fuss was about, and he picked up one of the old phones and was tapping it like the others, but not entirely sure how it worked, he took a picture of the floor and was startled by the snap.

“Whed dha llisc air dhair dhailr? Id necar ruin luaira eln llrerh. Ischerre!” He shouted as he attempted to make sense of it.
What in the hells is this thing? How curious that it flashes and makes noise. Weird!

“Okay,” Than said, standing up on a piece of masonry fallen from the garden wall when the necrons had attacked, “I’d like all the ladies and lads who worked here to get inside the garden please…”

“Thu ssraunjulw frounklw hemaun haus sauok hu waunss es si mizu si shu jaurkun.” One of the frogloks said with a raised eyebrow in a croaky voice. Another froglok with a particularly warty face looked over at Than for a moment.

“Thu Gaurkun?” He asked as he looked confused.

“I hauzu ni okuau whw uoshur.” He said with a shrug and pointed at the man with assuredness.

“Wu'ru nis jussonj shis auru wu?” One of the frogloks asked with a sense of jitteriness, he didn’t like the idea of going into the garden at all.

“I kin's shonr si, mausu.” The froglok said before he looked over at the C’tani.

“Not the beastlings!” Than added as they seemed inclined to go in, “Just the prostitutes.

One of the necrons, a tall “lord” with a single tail instead of legs, like a naga-form necron, started translating into Aquan.

The frogloks looked at the Necron with a blank expression and seemed to be amused. The Aquan was being translated into common rather easily.

“He looks like the Lord of Snakes of legend.” One of them said with a strange sense of admiration and awe, as the prostitutes were herded into the garden, some of them very startled by the necrons, the others seemed to be oddly blank with perhaps their shock being a bit more by the blood covered beastmen than by the necrons.

One of the women was waved over by Levanna who snapped her out of her terror induced stupor. Than would find the people to be much more receptive to him rather than to the necrons.

“Come on step lively ladies we’ve not got all night!” Than said, “Now, anyone who’s paid for time with these lovely ladies, come gather ‘round me…” he said.

One of the customers approached Than in confusion. “Now look here, I paid to have my services met, and with discretion. Is this some sort of extortion or is it blackmail?” He asked as the women and male prostitutes had made their way to the Garden by the stone fountain and right outside the small hedge designs with the oddly blue shrubbery.

The C’tani tiefling stepped up to him, “Speak when spoken to,” he said, “show more respect to authority or it’ll go badly for you,” he said, glaring at the customer, and taking out his baton again, now that it was recovered.

“Y-Yes, ser.” He backed down and was a bit less worried about what would happen if his wife found out and was more worried about what would happen to him. They seemed much more aggressive now.

The Prostitutes began to converse by the fountain and seemed to be rather worried about what would become of them. Usually the penalty for prostitution was placed heavily on the prostitute rather than the customer if there was an illegal mark on a specific person it would be troublesome.

“So how many lashes d’ya think we’re getting?” One of the women asked as one of the older men shrugged.

“Who can tell, darling. With these people it’s quite likely we’re all getting flogged for pissing off noblewomen rather than anything we’ve done legally.”

“Prostitution’s legal in the imperial city innit?” One of the younger boys complained. “S‘not fair we’re gettin’ the floggin’s. I did nothin’ that Imperialites haven’t dun already.” The boy said with distress at the idea of town square flogging.

“Well I don’t care as long as we aren’t getting shot. I mean those were C’tani officers. Only lookin’ fer slavers so I ‘ear.” The bearded man in the corner said.

“Well ya weren’t slavin’, so it’s not a big deal… I think.” One of the women said with a shrug.

“Least we ain’t in Palomecia. Can you imagine what hell would be unleashed if we were there and got our noble patrons caught? The scandals would be from here to the moon.” A blonde haired woman said with a worried tremble.

“Come on, anyone else?” the C’tani said, wishing he had a megaphone, as he looked at the ring of people trapped by the necrons as they’d tried to flee.

The spectators to the beast baiting and beastmen fighting had been mostly corralled in one spot with one of them looking at the necrons for one moment before making a bolting sprint away toward the street.

The Naga-necron pointed his long bladed guisarme at the runner, and shouted something in his own language. One of the troops turned, going down onto one knee and cradling the gauss flayer carefully to aim for a neater shot, before firing. “FLIGHT PROVES YOU ARE GUILTY!” the Sarintel announced.

The runner was shot by the gauss flayer and he felt his body ripped apart by the atom as he screamed in agony, the scream and watching the man flayed off to the bone and then into dust and into nothing was more than enough to discourage more fleeing from the crowd.

“Who else was a customer of these lovely ladies and lads here?” Than asked, trying to put enough menace into it that it sounded like he might kill those who came forward too.

“Well fuck me…” One of the men stepped forward and headed towards Than. He was hoping it would be quicker to come forward, perhaps better than being gaussed at least.

“Now gentlemen! Which lady were you with? I want all of you to stand next to the prostitute you were with!” he announced.

He walked up to Marta, one of the older Prostitutes, which was not saying much as they were all very young, with an exception for a handful. He stood by the dark skinned beauty as he shrunk away a little bit and the other customers approached the other prostitutes and followed line.

“Now, all of the prostitutes who’re not engaged, head back inside, and take anyone under sixteen with you,” he said. The actual age of consent was more complex in the C’tan empire but that would do, Than felt, for getting the more egregious customers, watching to see which customers were left without a partner.

There were quite a few left over with about thirty customers who had their prostitute taken inside, and one of the men looked at the C’tani. “You took the other ones inside, how are we supposed to-” He started.

One of the necrons smacked him over the head, as they proceeded to grab those thirty and march them to the wall.

They were led to the wall and didn’t seem to resist as they seemed to pull out their wallets, one of them approached one of the necrons and offered him money to let him go. The necron looked at him, and then shoved him against the wall, twisting his wrist painfully enough to tear ligaments and then stepping back.

Than looked at the remaining customers, with the adult prostitutes, “The rest of you, it’s your lucky day. We don’t care about prostitution per se. Clear off, hell, you can even go inside if you want, though I don’t recommend it…” he said.

“Praise the Holy Gods!” One of the men said terrified. “You’re not tellin’ my wife are ya?”

“Not if you run off right now, no,” he said. “GO!”

They didn’t have to be told twice, noblemen, fisherman, carpenter and masons all fled faster than one could say ‘blightfish’ and they sprinted away from the necron company and were glad it wasn’t their turn to be put to the ax.

“The rest of you… everyone who’s not a prostitute or a beastling, you are under arrest either for child rape or conspiracy to murder and slavery. Form a line in the road!”

They seemed to line up and one of the men protested. “This is the only time I’ve ever done this. I’d never would have done it. I didn’t do it, I swear!” The man pleaded.

“Silence,” the Tiefling said, “you will be processed later!” he snapped, giving the man a prod with his shock baton, “Back in line.”

He screamed and headed toward the line as he groaned and fell in line quickly as he attempted to put distance between him and the necrons.

“Sit down, hands on your heads,” one of the necrons barked as they began to secure the various customers of one type or another for transport to Greythorn Jail, and Than and his friends walked to the ‘Landlord.’

“I trust you’re going to behave yourself?” Than asked.

“I said I would even if you did something unholy to me. I am asking again to tell your friend to get rid of this damned curse!” He said angrily.

The tiefling laughed, a laugh almost of a monster, terrible and wild, and menaced him with the baton, “Yes or no will be enough from you!”

“I said yes!” He complained while spitting again.

“Good,” Than said, “Now, describe Ralthier for me,” he said, “what does the man look like?”

“Older man, he’s a Tor, but has greying hair.” The man said with a frown “A beard and a mustache.”

“Good man, off we go,” he said, removing the cuffs from the man, “Let’s go find him.”

“Don’t even think about running,” Sherin said.

“I said I wouldn’t run, and I won’t.” The pimp said with a frown at Sherin. “What more do you want from me?”

“Take us to our man and we’ll lift the curse when we have him. On you go,” Sherin said.

“A moment,” the Tiefling said, “I think the one that strangled the boy is coming back...” he said.

The patron noticed the Necrons from his car and immediately sped in the opposite direction with the tires squealing loudly and the man began to speed off into the local one way street.

Sarintel surged after him, phasing through one of the buildings, several wraiths following at vehicular speeds. The man switched gears and swerved ahead turning into a busy thoroughfare and he narrowly missed hitting a woman before spinning and losing control of his vehicle and crashing it into a fire hydrant. The water gushed out flying upwards of about upwards of two stories from the high pressure. The airbags of his vehicle smashed into his face and bruised his nose, but didn’t snap it out of place.

“Arghhh….” He murmured as he attempted to climb out of the wreck.

Sarintel bent the door back, seizing him and pulling him out of the wreckage.

The man was pried out of the wreckage and took a breath as he was soaked by the pouring water and took advantage of such slippiness to attempt to wrench his way free and removed his shirt and sprinted, limping away from him.

The necron slithered after the criminal, with a kind of mechanical sigh of annoyance, whacking his legs with the butt of the staff.

The whack had the unexpected effect of making the man do a diving faceplant on the ground, where he cursed and attempted to climb back up and couldn’t get to his feet.

“Argh….I’m spent.” He moaned as he looked back at Sarintel.

He grasped the man by the scruff of the neck and hovered back toward the brothel, dumping him on the tarmac in front of the guards.

“Argh….. what do you want?” He asked as he blankly looked up at the necron guards and shielded his face with his hands, not willing to look them in the face. “I didn’t do anything, I just came here one time. Only time I’ve ever done anything.”

The Tiefling grinned, “I know lies, you runt. Get up.”

He got up to his feet and groaned as he looked up at the tiefling and suddenly put two and two together of course his two and two ended up being thirty four.

“Holy shit, you’re that kid’s father? Look, I didn’t mean to hurt your kid, honest.” He lied.

“Get up.”

“Seriously! I didn’t!” He got up and panicked for a second as he attempted to get to his feet.

“Guess my profession,” he said, taking the baton in hand again and flipping it out to its full length, which it assumed with a sound like groaning steel, sparks flicking off it as he tapped it against the wall beside them.

“Are you a cop?” The man asked with worry written all over his face.

“Worse. What is your name, wretch?” he asked.

“Decimus.” The man said “Decimus Anderfoll.”

“Ah, you have a surname? That makes you a man of standing does it?”

“Perhaps.” he stammered. “I-I-I don’t think it is much standing.”

“So, how often is it you choke young boys to death to satisfy your abhorrent passions?” he asked.

“I’ve never done it before. Not even once. This was just a fluke, I don’t intend to ever do it at all. It was taken too far, I know. I’m messed up, and I’ve made a mistake. I can change! I am talking with a psychiatrist.” He said with his hands waving.

“Men like you can never change!” the tiefling barked, “Tell me the real answer.”

“It’s like I… like I said, you don’t know how much shame it is to have these urges and not be able to control them.” He said playing for sympathy. Given that he was a Tor, his acting was magnificent. However, any man worth his salt knew that it was utter bullshit.

“You broke the law! There is no excuse! Out with it or I’ll thrash it out of you!”

“I don’t know!” He said as he tried to remember.

“You do not know how many boys you’ve killed? That is the wrong answer! HOW MANY?”

The man put his hands over his ears and blurted out. “I don’t… I have… it’s more than… well.”

“Out with it,” the Tiefling said, almost trembling in rage.

“I think… I only did it… once? Twice… I don’t know. I’ve paid the blood price six times, but I don’t think I killed six people. I just got a fuckin’ pimp extorting me to give his damned whores more money. I don’t know, I said I’m not sure. Not because I don’t know if I’ve done so, I just don’t know if the people I’ve strangled are really dead.”

The Tiefling’s eyes burned with a flash like fire, his brow contorting in rage underneath his exaggerated horns, “SIX!” he shouted, and began to beat the man, counting, “ONE!” and so on, administering six heavy blows with the truncheon to the man’s arms and midriff, each one accompanied by a paralyzing electrical shock.

The pain made him fall to the ground as he tried to pull himself up, once more, and attempted to balance himself, but he felt like perhaps his arm was broken in several places.

“You’ve… that’s enough…” He moaned. “I don’t know if I’ve killed them.”

“I will say when it’s enough,” the Tiefling said, panting in rage, “Not you!” he said, previous control reasserting itself. “You never did guess my profession...”

“Soldier? Sailor? I don’t fucking know!” He shouted as he took a deep breath, having trouble reasserting his balance.

“I am an adjutant-guard of the accused, in the jail you will be going to. I have but one name, but you shall fear it nonetheless. I am Javert. And I am not done with you. Get in the line with the others,” he pointed with the baton.

The man named Decimus headed toward the line and was sickened by the pain and attempted to keep his ability to walk carefully with the others.

“I will be waiting,” Javert said, turning back to the pimp, “Move,” he said, clearly enraged. The pimp was dragged along and he motioned to a transport vehicle.

Than meanwhile, paused to make sure Levanna was taking care of Finn, and asked one of the necrons to guard them.

“Well ser, we should move along. I’ll tell you the directions and where to find him. There is a gambling hall by a derelict house on Aspen Street, we must head there right away, he does not stay long in one place, but I know his schedule.”

They got in, Sherin driving, and Than sitting in the back seat with the pimp, “Good man. Give directions.”

“Go up this road and take a right at the sign, hurry up and don’t miss the roundabout ahead, this light takes forever if we get caught behind it. Once we’re past the roundabout we want to get out on the second exit. The second one.”

Sherin’s driving was terrible, wavering over the road as if half drunk, “I think I’ve got the right idea here,” he said, “theres one of these pedals that you use called a clutch...” he said, frowning in absolute concentration.

“I hear there’s two breaks, one on one of the pedals and one on that lever thing...” Than put in as they wavered around ten miles per hour on the road.

“Why aren’t we flying?” Javert asked, confused, never having actually been in a ground car before.

“Foreigners make this look so easy...” Sherin bemoaned.

The Pimp was gripping for dear life as he attempted to keep his lunch down, it was very hard considering he had the taste of shit in his mouth, and the scent of urine in his nose.

“Over there, c’mon-NO NO THAT IS A ONE WAY STREET! A ONE WAY STREET! OH GOD WE’RE GONNA DIE!” the pimp shouted as he shielded his face and heard a loud beeping and the screech of brakes of another car that they barely missed. The Pimp’s breath was recaught as he tried to speak but yammered nonsensically for a moment.

“Ammut’s turds...” Sherin said, and attempted a U turn in the middle of the road, ploughing into a lamp post at a measly five miles per hour, bemused at the turning circle of the vehicle. “That’s not me. I swear the compensators must be shot.”

“I am…. astonished. You are supposed to be good drivers damn your eyes!” The pimp stuttered as he pointed at the turn. There take that one. We’re almost there.” He said as he was never more relieved to see a derelict building before in his life. “He should be in the gambling hall over there. Ask for Hugo, and he’ll point you to Ralthier.”

“Good. Sherin,” Than said.

Sherin handcuffed the pimp to the steering wheel, from the back seat, taking the keys.

“Do we need to immobilize the vehicle properly?” Than asked.

“The handling on that thing’s so bad I’m sure it’ll never move again,” Sherin said, walking off. “It’s like it had no gyros at all.”

“What the hell kind of car has a gyro?!” The pimp asked as he moaned and tugged his wrist backwards.

Than began talking to the necrons on his implanted communications system briefly as they approached the building the pimp had pointed them to, attempting to look nonchalant. The building was a gambling hall and seemed to have a group of burly looking Aurothi men who were standing by the door wearing plaid button down shirts torn at the elbow and a pair of leather gloves with a sewn on bit of steel bits stitched on the knuckle. They were supposed to stand by the Gambling Hall and ensure that people didn’t attempt to run off from paying the Gambling house what was due, as it wasn’t uncommon for people to attempt to bugger off once they lost all their winnings and everything else they had on them including the clothes off their back.

The Building itself was made of wood and had wooden frames which were carefully wrought to make it look more rustic and countryside than it actually was, because the wood itself used to frame the frosted glass windows was actually very valuable. Better to keep a low profile than to cause too much of a fuss. There was a raised eyebrow and a glance at the C’tani as they seemed to be keeping their distance. The men chattered in Yinudrel for a moment before regaining their solemn and serious expressions standing by the door.

Than resumed the act of being the most important of the group, walking ahead a little and bowing to the guards, “Good evening messirs,” he said, “I understand there’s money to be made here?”

“Of course there is, if you have a pass or a contact inside. We don’t want any trouble, but we’re a more lucrative business. Are you willing to tell me who your contacts are, or to show your pass? If not, you may apply for a pass and it will give you free entry for a month.” The tall man with golden locks said in a polite manner to the C’tani. He was not as threatening as he looked when he spoke, as his voice was oddly gentle and his features were much softer than his partner who has a scraggly beard and seemed to have a more rugged appearance and was shorter but more burly than the man who was speaking with Than. He didn’t seem to be all that worried by Than, he looked like some of the normal customers that dropped by.


Than pulled a bag of coins from his pocket and held them in one hand, then smacked the bottom of the hand, sending them sailing in the air vaguely in the man’s direction. “Is this a pass?” he asked.

“S’good enough for me, Ser, welcome to the Pine Glen Club, please enjoy yourself.” He said as he stepped aside and his friend dove for the cash. As they stepped aside Than was able to get past the large red wooden door, with iron framed designs which also meant to invoke the feeling of the countryside. As the man entered he would be able to hear exotic Palomecian music being played on a strange teardrop shaped lute, and there was a rousing drumming line with a beautiful woman adorned in soft lithe silks dancing with a tambourine and bells attached to her sleeves. She has beautiful almond shaped eyes that were dark brown and flowing curly hair. There were other women serving drinks, including some lovely pale skinned beauties in loose revealing clothing.

There was of course almost half the patrons completely drunk, while the others crowded around card tables and slot machines. The bouncers were wearing the same plaid uniforms that the men outside wore and some wore suspenders as well. They were not armed but they were strong enough to look threatening as they passed. There was also the smell of cooked food, spiced meat pies and home cooked pies with smooth ales that had an almost nutty flavor The gambling establishment was covered with deer heads and mountain goat horns and some other smooth furry throw rugs. There was a distinct scent of pine and some decor that invoked the feeling of the great outdoors and hunting regalia which appeared to be well made fakes.

Than looked around at the establishment, and shared a look at Sherin, who promptly began looking to see if there were any beastling-pelts on display. Because that seemed to be the way of these things. And as he examined the pelts, he would see that even the floor rugs were fake and made of plastic, but was fairly convincing except for perhaps a few throw rugs of a red roe deer which was real, and the taxidermy heads were also real.

Satisfied, they approached one of the bars, Javert sitting himself down next to one of the denizens of this particular establishment with a look of derision, and Than waved to be served, as if he was more important than everyone else present. The waitress immediately approached and she leaned forward with a bow. She was a dark skinned lady with long dreadlocked hair pulled back into a pony tail and she was wearing a white linen gown with a scoop neck and a tight bodice.

“Welcome to the Pine Glen Gambling Resort, how can I help you, Ser?” She asked as she provided a foamy amber ale which was cool and nutty with a dry aftertaste. “Our complimentary house ale, and the menu, what can I get for you to drink?”

As she was giving the menu and the ale, there was a beautiful elven woman with a bodyguard who was heading to the corner where a dark skinned man began to play the piano, and she began to sing a jazzy tune, with her blonde locks curled in spirals and her tight knee length gown shimmered as the other men whistled happily and raised their beer steins as she sang.

Than seemed not particularly bothered by the elven woman, looking at the waitress thoughtfully for a moment, then browsing through the menu. “What have you in the way of port?” he asked, it was a random question, really, he was not much of a drinker, his father however, tended to have expensive tastes in the matter of wines, and it seemed like the kind of question he’d ask.

“You’d be better looking at the red wines,” Javert said, as Sherin watched the elf out of the corner of one eye.

“We’ve tawny port, Ruby, White, Rose, and Reserved and late bottled vintages, while for the gentleman of refined tastes, might I interest you in a glass of fine Aggregio?” She asked with a warm smile.

“Are any of them foreign?” Than asked.

“Tevinter wines, Nathicanan, Menelmacari, and a few from Northern Treefolk, to suit your fancies.”

“Menelmacari then,” the young man said, the only one on that list that wasn’t either probably made by slave labour or funding organized crime.

“Fine tastes, Good Ser, and can I also interest you in some pumpkin soup or onion soup? They’re our specialties for today, along with the venison in red wine sauce, and the chicken-a-la-King.” She said with a smile as she noted the drinks.

“Chicken-a-la-king?” he asked.

“Never had it before? it’s a Chicken in a dry sherry sauce with butter and mushrooms and fresh chives with buttered noodles. It’s rather lovely, and we’ve made it our speciality to serve it with game hens, very very delicious.” She explained.

“Why not,” he said, passing a rather large - or at least proportionately so - amount of money over the counter, “keep the change.”

“Wha-wait, are you sure this is alright?” She asked as she whispered quietly. “You are… aware you’ve given me over five hundred fifty currents?”

“That sounds about right for three people...” he said, “is that a lot?”

The woman’s skin was dark enough that her blush could not be seen, but she bashfully smiled as she began to give back some of the money, her compassion getting the better of her. It was a lot of money, but she wasn’t about to scam the poor foreigners. “That’s over one hundred fifty dollars, my good ser.” She said as she smiled and leaned over. “If you need any help with anything, please let me know alright?” She asked with a playful wink at Sherin. “You should have some fun here, and get a chance to see more of the sights. You’re tourists aren’t you?”

“No, we work here, but we’re from abroad,” he said, “and gambling is sinful, though I thank you for the offer,” he said, playing up his own role somewhat.

“The sweetest things, you are adorable. So what brings you to the den of sin and wantonness?” she asked playfully.

“Wantonness is okay,” Sherin said, “it’s just the gambling.”

“This is a gambling resort, ser, I imagine you are a long way from the workplace, unless you wish to pick up converts among those who gamble right down to their socks?” She asked as she poured the Menelmacari wine for the group, and looked over at the corner where a fight was breaking out between the bouncers and one customer for apparently getting a bit too friendly with one of the barmaidens. This incident made the waitress rush to the barmaiden’s aid, offering her a bit of comforting words.

“Do you see him anywhere?” Than asked in Necrontyr.

“No,” Sherin said, “Ask the girl when she comes back...”

The waitress approached and gave a little bow as she seemed to be apologetic. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea that would happen, some men get a little…” The woman trailed off for a moment and tried to get a complimentary drink into their reach. “Your Chicken will be here in just a moment, please do let me know if there is anything I can do to help you.”

“That’s fine, thank you. You wouldn’t happen to know a man called Hugo around here? I’m told he has some good business sense...” he said.

“Oh, I see… yes, Hugo works in the back room, come with me and we can meet him, but I want to know who it was that referred him, it’s usually… less than savory characters who consult Hugo and you all don’t look like nasty fellows.” the waitress asked as she unlocked the back room, passing another pair of men dressed like lumberjacks.

“I look like Satan’s particularly angry uncle,” Javert remarked, “How much nastier do you want?”

“Actually you look sort of similar to a brother in law, so I just can’t see it.” She laughed at the comment as she opened the door and behind it were a group of men surrounding an older man with dark hair which was greying on a few spots. He had a dark mustache and sideburns, and unlike the others who were all dressed like lumberjacks, he was dressed like a hunter and seemed to be surprised.

“I wasn’t expecting company, who are you?” He asked as he motioned for the the men to approach. The woman stepped aside and seemed a little worried.

“Hello! We’re here to spread the good news of our Lady Ma’at,” Sherin said, “we were told that you were just the kind of people who might be in dire need of her humble servants’ ministrations.”

“You’re a priest?” The man asked with a raised eyebrow. “Thanks, but no, I already have a temple I frequent, my peace with God is great, I’m full of fucking good news. Now get out.” Ralthier said with annoyance as he pointed at the door.

“I think you misunderstand,” Sherin said, “Ma’at, Lady of Justice, desires your castigation,” he said, drawing his pistol, the other hand taking his baton which extended with a metal creaking sound, compressed and high as it shot into its new position, and Sherin immediately hit the nearest person who wasn’t a barmaid.

He immediately whapped the nearest thug and sent him careening backwards as another man was more worried about the gun and attempted to dive out the door shouting. “Fuuuuuuck.”

The left guard attempts to head away, missing a slap and not desiring to be shot Ralthier on the other hand pulled out an illegal hand cannon and pointed it at the Priest. “Put it down. Now.”

“Think well,” Than said, “There are three of us, and one of you,” he said, “are you convinced that you want to be shot today?”

“Who the fuck are you and what’s your order. I’ll be damned if I’ll let another one of you mafioso ilk cut in on my profits. Get the fuck out or so help me I’ll blow this place sky high. Or do you think that I’m bluffing?”

“Yes, I do,” Than said, “Go on, blow us up.”

The man fired at a box to the Left of Than and found himself disappointed to hear a bang that was insufficiently bangy, with small bits flying up on all directions, as a fire was beginning to spark up. Sherin used the moment to charge forward and attempt to beat the man with the stun baton. The barmaiden was knocked to the ground from the minor explosion and tried to get up as the other men began to attempt to flee before the place would go down in flames. Ralthier merely took his hand cannon in hand and watched as he seemed to be unimpressed by the stun baton. The stun baton hit him directly but the man didn’t immediately release his gun, as it misfired into the ground.

“Fucking hell. WHAT unholy wood is that?” He barely uttered.

Javert had decided that enough was enough, it seemed, and shot the man in the arm, above the gun, the intelligent projectile was programmed to detonate even on a near miss to a human target unless that target was below a certain total mass, and was dangerous for almost a meter around; Sherin was wearing armour, but even then it was a calculated risk. The bullet exploded after it pierced the man’s arm below the shoulder, blowing it off completely as his gun fell upon the ground and he let out a screeching howl as the barmaiden screamed and attempted to flee from the terrifying scene.

Sherin gasped and shoved the man away from him, stepping on the gun for a moment, looking at the fire carefully, searching his mind for something that would help, “Err. Fire extinguisher...” he said, kicking the gun away and backing off.

“Don’t have, them CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT!” The woman screamed as she backed away from the growing flames which was beginning to make the smaller boxes pop with small explosions. The man was bleeding profusely on the ground, the terrible wound sapping away his life.

Javert pulled the criminal to his feet, ignoring the others, while Than grasped the barmaid’s wrist, and Sherin prodded at one of the boxes with his baton to ascertain just how dangerous it was, shoving it away from the flames as he did so.

The boxes seemed to be filled with gunpowder and were slowly catching as the smaller boxes were obviously much less concentrated and filled with false filler to overblow the value. The nasty explosions however had the effect of releasing bits of sharp metal and casings. The barmaid was helped to her feet and immediately attempted to run out the door to not be caught in any flames that would come. The Altean Fire department arrived, but stood outside the building and did not intercede, not until the owner of the property was willing to haggle the price for saving the property. They couldn’t do anything for free.

Than urged the people out, and then stood briefly befuddled at the fire department. “What in the Abyssal City’s name are you bastards doing?” he shouted.

“Looking for the owner of the property.” The Fireman said waiting for someone to claim it. When no one was coming forward he just looked at the flames and did not seem to do anything. Even if he had the pressurized hoses and gear to keep the fire from spreading.

“Go and put the fire out!” he shouted, pointing with his baton at the smoke from inside the building.

“Putting out fires costs money and risks lives. If there’s no one in there and no one who’s willing to pay for our services, we aren’t going to intervene. It may as well be a derelict house. Might want to knock on the neighboring houses though.” The fireman said as he motioned for the men to check the houses. “It’s the slums down here, why fight it? It’s better than a demolition, as the city doesn’t have to pay for it.”

“There’s people in there, go put the fire out!” Than said, absolutely astounded.

“In where?” He said as he watched the people continuously ran out of the burning building, one of them partially immolating. “Oh, those. Not our responsibility.”

He sighed, “Fucking Alteans,” he said, and pointed the gun at the nearest of the fire fighters, or as it seemed, fire spectators, “Put the fire out or I’ll shoot you.”

“Whoa! Hold on, are you the owner of the damned place?” He asked as the man began to attempt to turn on the pressurized hose in panic. “Look, we’ll call the police if you don’t stop! Put those guns away!”

Javert had pinned Ralthier against the wall behind him, and was taking his sword out, “We are the police!” he shouted.

“What the fuck’s the matter with these damned cops! It’s not our job to stop everything that smokes!” The fireman said as he ran inside and began to put the flames out. Inside, Sherin was unloading as much soft drinks, water and non-spirits as he could lay his hands on into the fire, as the fire brigade finally seemed to turn up. The building was mostly intact and despite the explosions there were many that did not go off due to Sherin’s timely intervention, and Than’s well placed threat.

“The fire’s out.” One of the firemen said as he stepped over the burned corpse of one of the patrons.

“Right. You, there, chief, up against the wall,” Than announced.

“Excuse me?” The chief asked as he was busy rallying up the other men to return to the department.

“Up against the wall, you’re under arrest. If you want to give some keys to someone or something you can,” Than announced.

“Sherin, a hand here,” the tiefling cried, as he held his sword against the fence’s arm, and switched up the blade’s effective heat, “I need you to hold this guy down...”

The fence took pained effort to stand still as he attempted to step away desperately, realizing they weren’t mafiosos but fucking cops.

“What a day.” He said before he could feel his blood pressure dropping.

Sherin held him down, and began chanting in the Kemetic Aligrethan language, the pain subsiding for the time being, “You want me to do that?” he asked.

“Probably for the best,” Javert said, yeilding to the “Templar’s” medical experience. Sherin took the blade, and began to attempt to cauterise the injury, below the torniquet already tied further up the arm. Smoke and steam poured from the blade and the smell of frying bacon spread through the air. The man let out an agonized scream as he tried to attempt to flee from the crazy man, and was shocked that the blade was frying his skin and stopping the bleeding.

“Stay still you dumb bastard!” Sherin said, as Javert held his shoulder carefully, keeping his hand back as much as possible, when the cutting was done, he changed to using some manner of magic once more, the pain easing slightly, though still immense.

The man attempted to stay still but didn’t seem to see the value in it as he breathed hard attempting to stay conscious. The pain and blood loss made it very difficult. He looked over at the C’tani cleric for a moment and just tried holding still.

“Up against the wall,” Than said to the chief of the fire brigade, waving his gun, “Or you’ll get worse than him.”

The fire chief knew better than to resist the word of the man with the gun. He waited for the man to give the orders and commands, as far be it for him to want to lose a limb.

“You’re under arrest for gross negligence and manslaughter. Just be glad you’re not under arrest for murder,” he said, “You’ll probably live. Pick that fellow up, and come with us.”

“The man who is on the ground who is bereft of an arm?” The fire chief asked as he looked over at the cops in confusion. “I didn’t commit manslaughter, so what are you talking about? I followed standard procedure.”

“Talk again and I’m going to hit you,” Than said, “Just pick that guy up and come with us.”

The fire chief picked up the Fence named Ralthier and took a moment to head toward the C’tani. He followed as the other men were heading back to the fire department.

They marched the group back to the car, still left where it had been, expecting to see it very slightly dented by hitting the lamppost.

The Pimp was still in once piece but was still attempting to break off the car so that he would be a tad less uncomfortable as his arm were weak and painful from the position. He saw the C’tani returning and frantically increased his struggle and took effort to attempt to get away in time.

Than shook his head as he watched the Pimp, “So who do you want to be handcuffed to, the fireman or stumpy?” he called as they approached.

“Can I get handcuffed to the stump of stumpy?” He said with a smirk. “I jest, now now, don’t be such a sour puss. Whichever.” He said as he was merely glad he’d get uncuffed from the steering wheel unless he was going to have his other free hand cuffed to the next man, which for him would be akin to having his limbs pulled apart. “I’m not picky.”

They seized him and cuffed him to the fireman, while one of them took hold of the fence instead and they marched back to the brothel; at least, they were told to march, and pick up the pace, by Javert, often.

“Is this really necessary?” The pimp asked in a shrill voice as the Fireman didn’t manage to let the pimp keep the pace.

The tiefling took his baton, and smacked the pimp on the arm, behind and above the elbow, “Eyes front, move faster!” he shouted.

The man yelped in pain as the shocking pain made him drag behind for a moment more and the fireman grabbed him roughly and pulled him up. The fireman attempted to hustle the pimp quicker.

“Quicker!” Javert said as they arrived back with the necrons, and their gaol arks, parked outside the brothel, into which they were loading the prisoners, chaining ten inside each of them.

“Three more! The slaver-landlord, a manslaughtering fireman, and a murderer!” Than announced.

“I’ll have you know I am not a slaver, ser! I’m still waiting for my thanks for delivering to you the murderer, and what? You found a manslaughtering fireman? Wonderful good for you, now what do I get in return for my expected double contribution to the Principality?” He asked hoping that he was at least going to get some manner of commuted sentence.

Sherin held up his rod, “I am Ma’at who knows the Just from the Lost, and bid Shezmu my father’s servant to restore in balance to this man, his senses,” he said, and at least the horrid curse was dissipated. He gasped and was immensely grateful the curse was dispelled and choked and spat a little more until the taste was out of his mouth.

“There you go. And it might count in your favour at your trial...” he said.

“W-Wait, look if we’re talking about helpful things that can get me more favor, something that will quite obviously be useful information to you, I have many more, much more information. You’d be surprised, more people confess to me their darkest secrets that they wouldn’t to their wives, to their lawyers, nor even their priests. I can help more!”

“You’ll need evidence,” Than said, “or you’ll just name anyone. What evidence do you have?”

“Ledgers and manifests from a local roving band, raiders. Who go into local towns and bring me bitches… but while we’re on the topic of bitches, we have some prett-”

Javert hit him with the butt of his baton, “More care what you say of these respectable women, you swarm of worms and maggots in human shape,” he snarled, leaning in and whispering it maliciously.

“NO, No more curses look, I’ll call them FINE DEBUTANTES if you don’t curse me again, JUST NO MORE!” He shouted desperately.

“So these raiders bring you the women and then you force them into prostitution, worm?” Than snapped.

“You say force, I don’t raise a hand against them unless they have done something so unimaginably stupid that you’d smack them too I -”

He got another poke in the belly with the base of the baton for his troubles. “You accuse us of being scum like you, vermin?” Javert snapped.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, I merely am getting my impressions mixed up, clearly you aren’t beating me and are giving me the first class treatment for helping you. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Save your sarcasm, tell it quickly, and with proper respect,” he demanded.

“I get my fine debutantes from raiders who rove from local towns and they get the women to work for me, I don’t force them to do anything. I dress ‘em up, doll them up nicely, and I give them a pretty dress to wear, teach them the right way to talk, speak and please patrons. I don’t make them stay here.”

“A likely story,” Than said, “Where do these raiders camp?” he asked, “Where is their base?”

“I want to talk to a priest.” He said looking side glance at Sherin. “Not your priest.”

“You can talk to your god if you’re not careful,” Than said.

“As a dead man I am unremarkably of no use to you, and living I can at least do something right before your people shoot me.” He said with a shrug. “What do you have to lose?”

[Mystrian Altea]

“You’re not getting a priest. Out with the rest of it.” Than said. “The priests in this country are just criminals in cassocks.”

“Very well, I have a ledger that details specific meeting points, and it also details specific towns the regularly visit. I’m not sure about any of the details, but I am giving it to you, along with the backlogs of the raiders held on my harbor warehouse. It’s under my wife’s name. I don’t think it’ll pick up any alarms so you could find it.”

“Javert,” Sherin said, “Take one of the necrons and help this fellow fetch his evidence...” he said.

“Try not to let him bleed on it...” Than suggested.

“Right,” Javert said, hustling the fellow toward a necron, pausing by one of the open topped prison transports to shove the shock baton against Decimus’ back in passing.

Decimus shouted and yelped from the pain and attempted to not move much against him. The Necrons were something he again, did not expect and made him terrified and he locked up.

“J'aime ces choses,” the tiefling said, stowing the extendable baton after looking at it for a moment, and dragging the pimp back to the house, now merely handcuffed.

The Pimp was dragged back to the house as he merely stood where indicated, and tried to to keep even a hair out of line, the sense of relief not coming, but at least he couldn’t taste the horrible curse on his tongue anymore, though, he longed for a drink to get something to get it off his mind.

“So, that kid… was he really your son?” The Pimp asked surprised that the man hadn’t come earlier. “I mean… I mean no offense but… you guys don’t look anything alike.”

“It’s the horns,” he said, “Come on, get the rest,” he said, ready to give the fellow a clip around the head to speed him up but regretfully concluding it would not actually speed him up.

He removed the ledgers and records and a few other bits of paperwork as he offered it to the C’tani as he unlocked the lock box. The pimp also took out a box of cigars and gave it to Javert. “Make some good use of ‘em, at least.”

The tiefling looked at him with an incredulous, disbelieving look between his bushy sideburns.

“Whaat? I’m not asking for anything am I?” The pimp said apprehensively. Not that he would turn it down were it offered. “Here are some additional records on smugglers out of the West Lands, see? I’m a good friend to have.”

The tiefling seemed to twitch slightly, as if suppressing a great emotional outburst. “Friends?” he asked after a moment, in a voice that sounded as though it could scorn the very notion of friendship and in so doing unmake the concept itself, so repellant was this man’s friendship. Since he had little concept of honest friendship it had little value as well, but as far as he was concerned it was good enough.

He held his hands out and expected to be handcuffed again as it was difficult for him to maneuver the locks.

The Tiefling took the box,opened it, and grabbed one of the man’s hands, putting his fingers on the cigars and slamming the box shut as hard as possible.

The man winced and attempted to regain the feeling in his fingers as he shook his hand out and shouted.

“THERE’S THE PAIN AGAIN. Argh… Well, that’s really clearing up the sinuses. Truly this works better than my doctor’s prescribed antibiotics let me tell you. ugh...” he moaned as he felt his eyes reddening.

“If you stop breathing, I’m not giving you mouth to mouth. Move,” he said, prodding the man back out to the lawn.

He sat out on the lawn and tried to recollect himself still moaning from the pain as he tried to calm his breath, the throbbing of his hand and the pain in his head and chest was still raw but he didn’t want to say anything more, as they’d just hit him more.

He didn’t get to sit down long, as the necron siezed him and took him to the elaborate cage-cart with the others, chaining his hands up above him.

Meanwhile, the three prison guards secured the documents in an evidence box, where more professional police could look. With the fence in custody, but not able to be interrogated yet, their work for the night was done, it seemed, at least until he could be questioned.

They headed back inside the brothel, still carefully guarded by the necrons.

The women looked rather concerned and annoyed. They had not the relief one would imagine from a person who was freed from a slaver.

“Hello again,” Than said, looking around for Levanna.

“Ah, you’re back. Are you alright?” She asked worriedly as she had heard the fire alarms from quite far off and saw the smoke in the distance. “I thought there was some sort of bombing.”

“Ah yes. We got the man though. He’ll live. For now.” Sherin said. “Is Finn here?” he asked.

“I think he went out, said something about wanting to go visit his parents, which is odd, because he’s never talked about parents before.” Levanna said with a shrug. “Maybe he went out to see a girlfriend or a boyfriend. I’m not sure.”

Than sighed, “Where’s the nearest graveyard that would have non-humans?” he asked. He decided not to humour the other notion that sprang to mind, which was that he’d gone to his criminal associates again.

“There’s one that is on the hill but most of those aren’t marked.” The woman said pityingly.

“Can you tell me where?” he asked.

“I can take you there if you need to, let me just get something different to wear.” She said as she quickly dove through the clothes closet and began to change as she came out in a more comfortable outfit than her working one. She tugged on a sweater and stepped out, and waved to Sherin and Than. “C’mon, let’s go and I’ll direct you.”

“Okay,” Than said, taking out a sleek looking device and stealing another car that he reckoned belonged to one of the punters they’d locked up, the device unlocking it with ease. “Sherin, you want to drive this one?” he asked.

“I have a licence if you don’t mind me driving, I can get you there easiest this way.” Levanna said hoping she had not overstepped her boundaries.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Sherin said, “they can’t all be in such bad condition as the last one,” he said, sitting down and using another model of the same thing Than had used to unlock it, “Have a seat,” he said, studying the dashboard carefully.

She sat down and comfortably buckled herself as she took a moment to get a good view of the road. “First thing we need to do is go down Amaranthine Drive, and then turn over at Ochre Boulevard, and then at the third corner, we take the third left.” She said as she sat down. “If you can’t see the signs, I’ll point them out.”

The driving was as bad as before, the car stopping and starting several times as Sherin decided that the throttle-pedal was probably actually something you had to keep adjusting, and he swerved onto the road and waited too late to turn, scraping the car against the far wall with a bone-jarring screech as one of the wing mirrors was shorn off and rode up against the window before clattering to the ground.

“Wesir’s Unliving Cock these are some terrible cars...” he said.

Levanna was as pale as a ghost as she pointed at the turnway. “Over there. Over there for Gods’s sakes. STOP!” She called as she heard the screeching of the brakes. She panted in terror as she tried desperately to calm down.

Sherin turned the engine off and worked the brake lever, “What? Have you got a car that works?”

“No no, this… this is fine. Pull over, over there. OVER THERE MY GOD DON’T HIT THAT GUY!” She frantically shielded her face worried that he’d hit the poor old man on the side of the road.

By this time, the motor was already off, and even he managed to turn out of the way. “What is wrong with these cars?” he asked, after a moment, breathing heavily.

“You turn too damned close, react slower, these things you have to TURN TURN LOOSER.” Levanna said as she tried to show him on the wheel. “Over there is the graveyard.” She said as she gestured to a location on the hill, perhaps oddly close to the city dump. The area was quiet at least and there seemed to be a group of families who were leaving a bottle of wine which was poured over gravestones which looked more like normal rocks sanded into shapes, and branches that has been skillfully carved into crosses. The rituals of the dead denied most of them, they had resorted to other means to honor the dead.

Sherin got out, eventually, beginning to work out the limitations of the vehicles, and parked with a surprising amount of skill compared to the rest of the drive, before getting out, and looking around the graveyard with a sense of pity. To Than’s relief, the young tiefling was sitting by his sister’s grave and noticed Sherin first, before getting to his feet and approached them slowly.

“Hey, guys. I thought I’d pay my sister a visit before we left, because…She deserve a bit better. I decided to see if I could find any lilies but I scared off the flower saleswoman. By accident I suspect, but she scuttled off, so all I could get was a few echinacea plants I could rip off someone’s yard. At least they’re her favorite color.” The boy said with a tired sigh.

“I can get you some lillies if you like,” Than said, “it will be no trouble.”

“Maybe… you think you can go up to the lady and tell her I’m sorry for giving her such a scare?” Finn said with a tired expression. “It was a long way to walk here, so…” He huffed and looked over at Levanna curiously. “What’s she doing all the way over here?”

“Well how were they supposed to find you otherwise?” She asked.

“Were you worried about me?” Finn asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, of course,” Sherin said, as Than disappeared vaguely in the direction indicated.

The little florist girl was tending to a wagon of flowers and seemed to be perhaps little older than nine as her mother sold flower arrangements. She wore a long full skirt with an apron and a tied bodice and had long blonde hair tied and woven into braided pig tails and her mother had a long blonde braid which was tied with a red ribbon like her long blouse and gown which she also wore with an apron and a tied bodice.

“Flowers for sale!” She called from her wagon. “Fresh cut flowers!”

As Than approached the little girl shyly backed away, and didn’t seemed to be confident enough to ask him if he was willing to be. She attempted to hang back as her mother called.

“Hey kid, are you selling flowers?” he asked, waving at her.

“I…am… Would you like some, ser?” She asked as she held the basket of lillies up and looked over them carefully. “They’re only three currents a bushel.”

He looked through his pockets, “Let’s go over to your mummy, or sister,” he said, not wanting to get the girl in trouble for passing her the new money.

“Hello there, Traveler, can I interest you in a bouquet of flowers? You can make your girlfriend or lover very happy, or perhaps a gift for your mother?”

“Lilies, I’m afraid,” he said, sorting through his wallet, “Three currents a bushel?” he asked.

“Yes, and I’m so sorry for your loss.” The woman said with a sad smile. “May they rest easy.”

He passed her eight, “Two bushels, please, I think should do,” he said, passing her the new silver coins.

“What strange coins you have, are you a foreigner, ser?” She asked with a raised eyebrow as she examined the coin.

The one current coin had a picture of Syrian’s head on it, though without a crown, and rather less flattering than the previous depiction, not least because it had Syrian Martel von Messandre, Crown Prince of Altea on it.

“Actually I am a C’tani, though these are new Altean coins.”

“So this is what they look like. I had heard they changed the sovereign coinage, but I had no idea about the way this actually looked like. It’s… much less handsome than the Gold Current. So the value is the same, only they are called Sovereigns, am I correct?”

“No, still Currents.”

“But they’re not gold at all.” The woman remarked with a smile as she looked at the current and put it in the coinbox and offered the elf the beautiful white lilies that were customary with funerals.

He smiled as he took them, “There’s actually a greater value of silver in them than there was gold in the current,” not that there was ever as much as was advertised in the previous coinage. “Also, I’d like to apologise, in case a friend of mine scared you before, the little demon boy. He didn’t mean to.”

“Oh, well. He didn’t scare me, he scared my little sister, but she’s jittery around people normally, so I hope he’s not taking it too personally.” The woman said with an embarrassed look at the ground. “I’m.. not sure she’s yet ready to do open sales.”

“Oh, well, she’s charming anyway, and do tell her that he didn’t mean any harm for me, won’t you?” he said.

“Of course, thank you for being so understanding.” The woman said as she gave a sympathetic nod to Than as she headed toward the little girl and spoke to her comfortingly in Yinudrel. She nodded and gave the man a quick wave. “Okay!”

“Thank you,” he said, “you have a nice evening,” he added, heading back to the graveyard, where, just as he’d predicted, Sherin was doing the priest thing, which was about to be expected, given the number of unmarked graves, his voice audible a little way away as Than approached.

Finn seemed to be surprised to see that Than had the big bushel of white lilies, he wasn’t aware of the fact that the flower girl was going to let him have the flowers for his sister, but then again, he realized it would be easy for Than, because he was human.

Than passed the flowers to Finn without a word, watching curiously, as Sherin concluded, “offering given by the Queen to Osiris, the lord of Hakara, the great god. That she may give invocation offerings of bread, beer, oxen, birds, alabaster, clothing, books and every good and pure thing that the sky gives, the earth creates, the inundation brings, on which the god lives, for the Ka of Elise, the Justified, True of Voice.”

“And so it shall be.” Finn said not familiar with the benediction, but he lay the flowers upon her grave and took a deep breath and tried to restrain his tears. He dry heaved as he squeezed his fists a little, clenching as he tried to make peace with the resigned expression that he felt climbing through his mind. He couldn’t do anything for her, but he could at least try and live better. “Say, Sherin… what does that mean?”

“It is a blessing, for the gods to include Elise in the otherworld, and give to her the things that are offered for the dead, and to admit her to their realm.”

“Will she be protected when she does?” Finn asked with a hopeful expression. “I hope she is, at least. I’m a terrible brother, but I am hoping I can do something.”

“Yes,” Sherin said, “very much so.”

“Thank You.” Finn said reassured sufficiently and he looked over the street as the poor prostitute finally caught her breath from the harrowing ride. “Are we going back?” He asked as he seemed to be satisfied with his effort.

“We ought to,” Than said.

“Alright, so I think I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to go to C’tan. I might not be able to pay off my debt, but.. I might be able to do something about it.”

“At least you’ll no longer be funding those guys,” Sherin said. “And don’t worry, they’ll have bigger problems soon.”

“You really think so, Sherin?” Finn asked wondering just what he meant. “I haven’t known the Coterie for being the kind of Organization to be affected by the law much. They’re not legal after all.”

“This country has not known law like ours before,” he said, “Think we should walk?” he asked, looking at the car.

“I. am. going. to. drive.” Levanna said insistently as she waved her hands frantically. “You are the most terrifying driver ever.”

“I’m an excellent driver!” he said, confused.

“Not a chance, my god, you are like the worstest drivers, the terriblest most terrifyingest driver. I can’t even think of a word to describe the utter horror I had while being your passenger!”

“Well it’s obviously a scarily misaligned car, I mean, it seems to have no turning thrust at all...”

“And what in Serion’s Green Earth is a turning thruster?” The woman asked baffled.

“Thrust, not thruster, you know, to generate angular momentum to turn the vehicle...” he asked, “you mean, they’re not supposed to generate turning thrust?”

No, it just goes forward and turns as you turn it.” The woman said surprised that this seemed like an alien concept.

“You mean... just by friction?” he asked, peering at a wheel with bemusement, “I guess... right.”

“And the steering wheel.” Levanna said as she gestured. “That is acceleration, there’s the break, and that’s the steering wheel. This is what you use to drive. That is the gear shift… Are you following me, here lads?”

“Gear shift? I thought it controlled thrust. Like a throttle. You mean there’s gears in this thing?” Sherin asked.

“There are! It’s what the stick here does. It works quite well, and it seems to be very nice to control if you use them rightly. See it’s even an automatic car, it says what each one of these gears do. This is reverse, park, gear one, gear two, and see isn’t it nice, all right there so you can see it, but you are not going to drive it or so help me, the kid and I are walking.” Levanna said as Finn seemed to be utterly confused at the aggression that Levanna was speaking with.

“What is your major dysfunction?” The boy asked her as she seemed to sternly glare.

“Their DRIVING. It will kill us both.” The woman said with a fury.

“Yeah, I’ve never driven a groundcar that’s quite so... antique,” Sherin said, with a slightly embarrassed luck, “You mean they’re all like this?”

“Yes, yes they are. The Cantalviani cars are perhaps more modern, but these are the cars we deal with, ours are the ones we deal with.” The woman said with a panicked expression. “These are typical, and they are similar throughout the continent unless you deal with the Westland Hovercars. In such a case they operate like boats, not cars.”

“Technically aircraft I think,” Sherin said, “ours certainly do.”

“Yes, yes, but these are like… they are not going to work like things you have at home… whatever they are. These are cars!” She said as she pointed. “I will teach you how to use one, what do you say?”

“Err, I say you can drive it.”

“Good man, I knew you could see reason!” She said as she kissed Sherin on the cheek and reached for his keys and prepared to open the car and unlock the doors, which had been left unlocked, to put the key in the ignition but saw that it was not there. “How did you turn this car on?” She asked as she seemed to examine it curiously. “Did you hotwire this thing?”

“Requisitioned,” Sherin said, slipping a cylindrical device into the lock and twisting it, something that seemed to form a key in-situ.

“You have a skeleton key then. I see, I will need that dear, hop in and I’ll get us back. We’re heading back to the Mansion, right?” She asked as she wondered if they had another place in mind.

“Yeah, we’ve some time to kill. The man we were looking for won’t be out of surgery for a while.”

“So, you don’t mind wandering about or joyriding then in this… requisitioned vehicle then?” She asked as Finn seemed to somehow not like the idea, he would rather stay out of sight, as he was likely to not make good friends with people now that they thought him a snitch.

“I am not entirely sure I would like that very much. I mean…I’ve not things to do here, I mean… well I can imagine you guys have more things to do in town, but I will just hamper your efforts won’t I? Shouldn’t I go wait at the house where there are a lot of necron guards?”

Than looked at Levanna, “Have you any particular errand you want to run?” he asked.

“Errand? Hmm… now that you mention it, I could think of a few errands I could get done. Yes, errands. Want to come with?” She asked coyly as Finn seemed to shrink a little. “I think I will walk home, I’m sure it won’t be that much trouble.” He said as he pulled on his hooded jacket over his horns.

“You certainly won’t, we’ll drop you off first, and I will stay with you,” Javert said.

“You will? I mean… of course you will, you’re a stand up guy. I knew I could count on you.” Finn said playfully as he pulled his hood down. “Well, we can at least take our time so we don’t have to worry about things until we go back to the C’tan where you come from. You guys come from a hot place or a cold place there?”

“Ah, the domains of the C’tan Empire are vast,” Than said, “I come from a world across the galaxy, called Karlack, where it rains and snows and the waters are deep and cold, and highlands roll upward in stony, wind-blasted magnificence.

“In my homeland, the sun is revered, and the heat is like the Oryon Desert, cold as a stone at night, and hotter than furnaces in the red lands in the day,” Sherin said.

“I have no home yet,” Javert said, simply enough.

“Me neither, so you’re on the same boat as me then. Where would you want to live if you had a choice?” Finn asked as he climbed in the car with Javert in the back seat. “I mean you seem to have your head on right, so you must have some idea of what kind of home you’d like.”

“For now, a housing unit in the prison is enough,” Javert said, “what I want is work. Somewhere to be of use,” he said.

“I suppose I understand that feeling.” Finn said as the woman began to rev the car up and she took time to wait for the others to climb in and as they did she smoothly cruised the streets and cleanly drove the car steadily following traffic as she pulled back into the mansion and as she did Finn let out an enormous sigh of relief. He didn’t seem to show it much, but he certainly was afraid. “But… people say that there’s a feeling you get, when you know you’ve a home. Since I haven’t felt that way since I was born, I always felt like an outsider, so I am wondering what gave you that feeling the most, I suppose then since you haven’t found that place, you are like me, wandering, wandering, not quite finding that place. It’s good to know I am not alone.”

“There is no shortage of places, I’ve been looking at several,” the C’tani Tiefling said, sitting scrunched up to accomodate his horns, muscular tail making him sit kind of sideways, “There is a planet called Amarah, with six moons, that I have considered, they rise in three different directions.”

“That sounds beautiful. I’ve not expected some places like that to exist.” The boy said with a longing sound in his voice. “But I don’t know. I’ve not any idea what C’tan is really like, just that it’s not here.” He said as Levanna parked the car.

“Well, can’t leave this to fate can I? Is there a map where I can just coin flip and point where I might be able to say ‘Ah, this is a choice at least’? Or will the C’tan suggest a place for me to go?” Finn asked Javert as he climbed out. As he did, Levanna smirked looking at the pair of handsome men in the rearview mirror. She planned to be happily making other prostitutes in town jealous as she seemed to have handsome rich patrons with a rather nice car. She lead the pair to a beautiful ale house where she would park the car and seem to gesture to them to follow, she didn’t seem to have errands in a specific way and she seemed to pass her purse to Sherin who she took with her to the bar.

“Wait here for me, I have to talk with the girls here for a bit.” She said not realizing that she had unexpectedly lead Than and Sherin to yet another whorehouse, and as she headed to the downstairs brothel, they would note that there was another pimp there altogether who turned them away from the main brothel doors.

“Employees and staff only.” One of the gruff looking guards said as Levanna waved. “It’ll be just a second!”

Sherin sighed, “Really, really now?” he asked, waving his cane agitatedly at the pimp, “You don’t even ask what our errand is, what kind of doorman are you?”

“A well paid one. What, you want a different answer?” The man asked. “SCRAM.” He said as he seemed to let another woman pass, carrying no card or identification. She didn’t even have her name asked.

“Listen, good man,” Than said, “we’re here for the special services do you understand me?”

“Special Services you say? I cannot hear this nonsense, either you have business in here or you don’- Hello ma’am, please enjoy yourself.” The man said as he welcomed another woman inside. “This ain’t a public service lad.”

Than took out a phone, or what looked like one, and began dialing on it.

The guard looked over at Than and seemed to be uncomfortable for a moment and took a breath as he looked over at Than. “What are you doing?”

“Hello, this is Adhil Than of House Suhbekhar, I need to speak to the duty staff,” he said. “Yes, cross me through for voice recognition... Elthirashnaduxan.”

“Hm?” The man seemed to not recognize what on earth the man was speaking, and who he was speaking to, but took a moment to clearly fiddle with his fingers as another woman entered.

“I need the electrical supply for, where are we my dear?” he asked Levanna.

“I was going to get inside and see if I could talk with Groferei and once I am done I will have to look for Leandra.” She said as she looked over and massaged Than’s shoulders. “Just a moment.” She said as she stepped aside and playfully hit him on his backside and was talking with one of the men for a moment and she took the wallet and removed a few bills and passed it to the pimp. He seemed to be offended and said something out of Than and Sherin’s earshot to Levanna and she shouted. “That is such bullshit.” before she got slapped.

“Do you mind, I’ve bloody well paid for that,” Than said, “Levanna dear, what’s the address here?”

“It is one five seven waybrook avenue.” The woman said as she rubbed her cheek furiously.

“What, so you are attempting to haggle with my property?” The pimp said with a raised eyebrow. Levanna didn’t seem pleased for Than to hear such, as she imagined that he would most certainly tell the police which would cause problems.

“Property, your property?” Than asked, and put the phone away, “You cannot be serious!” Sherin’s hand moved to his gun.

“What you have a problem, pretty boy?” The pimp asked as he seemed to look down on Than, not noticing Sherin was reaching for his weapon.

“Let’s get this clear, you’re saying Levanna belongs to you, to do what you want to?” Than asked, flexing his fingers.

“What, do you think because you paid her for an hour that she’s yours? You’re sorely mistaken lad. Levanna is mine, and if I wanted to do something with her, I could.” He said as Levanna looked away in horror.

“Let’s just leave.” Levanna said with a sigh. “He’s not being reasonable today.”

“Bitch, you owe me money and no amount of muscle is going to have this disappear. Do you hear me. I want my money.”

“Are thirty million necrons sufficient?” Than asked, hand resting on the hilt of his sword, drawing it in a single motion, as Sherin did likewise with his sidearm.

“Oh you are shitting me. Rufus kill these motherfuckers.” The pimp said as his bodyguard raised his weapon. “You got five minutes to get out now.”

Sherin shot Rufus with a single trigger pull of semi-automatic fire from the proximity-detonating bolter-weapon without even a blink of hesitation. The pimp was astonished from the speed by which his bodyguard was dispatched and then he looked over at the pair of men and seemed to be a bit aware of his situation a bit more.

“Er...so… about those thirty million necrons… you weren’t… serious were you?” The man asked recognizing now the use of the C’tani weapon.

“I am a C’tani. If I need a soldier, there are thirty million or more. If I need a doctor, there are a hundred million, and if I need a policeman, there are even more. Now, let’s see... you just admitted to being a slaver so...”

“So…. BYE NOW.” He said as he bolted away from the C’tani. Levanna was already shocked from the first man being shot dead and she was shoved out of the way so that the pimp could make a break for it.

Sherin didn’t even move his feed, shifting almost like a tank turret to aim at the ground in front of the man; the powerful explosive bolts turning the ground into a series of explosions with whizzing chips of stone like shrapnel in front of him.

The shrapnel tore through the pimp like a bursting of grotesque confetti and the woman seemed to look astonished as she stepped carefully behind Sherin, afraid of the weapons completely.

“What is that thing?” She asked as she seemed to shudder in fear.

“Huh, I’d been hoping he’d survive,” the man said, “Further away next time,” he said, frowning, putting the gun away. “Do you know who’ll inherit your debt to that guy?” he asked, as Than calmly walked over to the perforated pimp and stabbed him through the chest; and then in the neck, suspecting the fellow might still be alive and wanting to put him down quicker, flicking the power-field on the sword off and then wiping the blade with a handkerchief.

“Reminds me of gutting fish,” Than said, casually as he looked at the blood he was tracking across the street.

“Okay, everyone in the building, we have you surrounded, come out in an orderly fashion, any attempt to resist will be met with force!” Sherin shouted, as Than sighed, and called Sarintel again, touching the implant on the back of his ear reflexively as he did. As he did there seemed to be a bit of unease as the personnel quickly attempted to take their weapons and discarded them so that they could try and surrender peacefully. There were a pair who holed themselves upon in a room with a pair of pistols but they didn’t seem too intent on fighting back, as they were more afraid than anything else.

The C’tani waited for the guards to surrender, and more importantly their reinforcements to arrive, who, naturally, actually entered the building; the two who hid were treated to a necron instead of the squishy organic frames of Than and Sherin.

They fired wildly at the necrons, not caring whether they hit them or each other, which of course led to the hilarious situation where one of the guards shot the other, but not dead, the second man wailed in agony on the floor from the pain of the bullet which shattered his arm. His weapon fell to the ground uselessly and the other guard closed his eyes and fired even more frantically at the Necrons.

Naturally, they clobbered him and dragged him out. One of them reflecting that more Alteans had killed each other trying to escape necrons than had actually been killed by necrons. Hilariously enough there was much more attrition caused by Alteans against Alteans than anywhere near equating to the amount of Alteans killed by one another. From where the quality of life improved under the C’tani Regency, there was still backwards terribly off things about aspects of Altean society. Levanna understood these facets and stood outside by the door waiting for Than and Sherin, still choking from the sickening feeling of seeing a man splattered by shrapnel. She waited for the necrons to come outside as she tried to calm herself down. She took a moment to look embarrassedly at the C’tani gentlemen and cleared her throat.

“I’m sorry… That...it… it was unexpected.” Levanna said as she leaned against the wall, her knees weak. “That you could come there and save me like that. It’s… thank you.” Levanna blushed as she attempted to calm herself down. “This must happen with you guys all the time. Sometimes I wonder if you guys are some sort of...team of vigilante heroes or something. Trouble seems to avert its head around you, and you sort of just spit in it’s face.”

“First day actually,” Than said, “at least, as vigilantes. We do other things, naturally enough,” he added. “Like we said to that guy, it comes from being pretty much certain the world’s got your back.”

“This is your first day here?” Levanna asked with her pitch rising, indicating a sense of genuine surprise. “Huh, well I know you mentioned before you were tourists, but even that surprised me. You guys do seem to oddly enough… fit in rather well.” Levanna said as she took her finger and nervously twirled a lock of her dark curly hair in her finger. “Maybe in a strange sense, that’s why I feel so comfortable around you two. Your friend is a little… strange though.”

“He was only recently reborn, but we needed people with relevant experience and I think he got bored of the counseling...” Sherin said.

“Not our first day here, our first day as ‘vigilantes’ I’ve been here a couple of weeks, with the second wave occupation forces...” he said, “We’re actually prison guards. Well, jail guards. Technically I’m a parole officer but frankly there’s enough work to do here that anyone who’s authorised to do any kind of interview is needed... we’re off duty now though.”

“Oh you poor things, and you come all the way to Mordovia, and end up in this shithole of a city? I pity you in a way. All the places and you end up in the gutter… wouldn’t you have wanted to go to a beautiful place like the Imperial City? Suld? Drakenspire? Some places where there is beauty everywhere?” She asked wondering if they were like her, a lost stray cat who was dragged to a place she would rather never have been dragged to.

“There is beauty here,” Sherin said, looking at Levanna, “as much as there is anywhere.”

“Perhaps if you squint your eyes.” She said with a playful laugh. “But I was going to check here, to see something. Some of the other girls have said, that they did not come by choice, but because their families are being threatened. I wasn’t threatened in the same way, so I wanted to see if I could find something out about it. The problem is that the only people who I know are in the underworld, and they’re the only ones who could tell me anything about it.”

“We’ll help if we can,” Than said, “you only have to ask.”

“Hmm...let’s see. I’ve a pair of handsome heroes attempting to help a lot of distressed damsels. I can see what I can do, but I’m not the best Heroine you could ask for. Even then, let’s see what I can do…” Levanna said as she adjusted her bodice for a moment and tied her stays a bit tighter. “I can think of a few people I can encourage to give us more information, but if something goes wrong, it could go very, very wrong. Can I count on you to have my back?” She asked as she seemed to find this idea less than ideal.

“Of course you can. Is it any of these guys? Because we’re already taking them in...” Than said gesturing to the prisoners, “if so, they’ll talk.”

“I was hoping I could get from them a bit of information on a man who is connected with one of the crime syndicates in the Western Town from here. I don’t know if they know anything, but I knew this place was one of those terrible seedy places were some syndicate members hang about.”

“Okay, I’ll find you one,” Than said, “wait here...” he said, walking towards the necrons guarding the prisoners being strapped onto another prison transport, “Okay, you shits,” Than said, “it turns out we’re one space short...” he said, gesturing to the prison transport.

“Wha-WAIT! What do you mean?” One of the beaten and bruised men asked he seemed to worry about its implications.

“Its your lucky day though normally I’d be happy to have a corpse out of you, but they’re being anal about the number of dead Tor bastards I produce, and I’m well over quota, so I’m going to come back in five minutes, and I want you lot to have decided amongst yourselves which of you gets to go free, the lucky fucker. Bye for now bitches!” he said, walking off back to Levanna. The logic was simple, if there was a criminal gang involved they’d either intimidate or bribe the others into nominating the most senior of their number. He expected them to start fighting too. There was arguing for a moment before one of the men looked over at them, and he snapped his fingers and they immediately silenced.

“It’s quite simple, we will let Erison go, and that is the end of the discussion, and once we are done with that, we will see if we can get a lawyer to get us out of this situation. They have nothing on us, and those who resisted arrest are dead, or so fucked up they can’t talk anyway.”

Than restrained the urge to laugh at their optimism, word had got around that there were lawyers to be had, and the natives had taken to the notion that a sufficiently good lawyer could immunize you against the law like some sort of foreign TV show. “You bastards picked yet?” he said, wandering back.

“Erison shall be freed.” One of the younger men said gesturing to the older man who snapped. “He is the least guilty among us and doesn’t deserve to be here.” The young man lied.

“Alright, Erison, come with me,” he said, looking for the fellow.

The man looked at Than with a dispassionate expression as he stepped forward and the others among his number bowed their heads in respect as he passed. He approached Than with his hand extended. “Thank you, Ser.”

“This way, some quick questions first,” Than said, leading him back to Sherin and Levanna, “this nice lady has some important questions for you,” he said. She looked nervous for a moment and looked at the ground, as she spoke rather quietly.

“Maestro, can you please tell me where I can possibly find a man named Jethro, as I have heard that he is involved with a group of Prostitutes I work with, and I wanted to see if I could make contact with them.” Levanna said as he looked at her with a puzzled expression.

“Jethro doesn’t run with my people, but I know of who you speak. I would say that if you wanted to find what you’re looking for, go to the old abandoned temple, and see if you can meet a revered mother named Terithia, and ask her to get you in contact with Jethro.”

“Th-Thank you Maestro.” She said as she looked over at Sherin with a calmer expression.

“Good man, now, back to the others,” Than said, “I think I miscounted before...” he said with a transparent lack of sincerity.

“Forgetful, are you?” Erison said with a cold expression. “C’tani have terrible memories. It’s a pity.” He walked toward the transport and frowned back at Levanna.

“Don’t look at her, in fact, bag him and the others please,” he said to one of the necrons, who began to, predictably, put bags on the Alteans’ heads, “I think we shall have to recommend a full interrogation for these guys,” he said, absentmindedly wishing he had the flair for beating that Javert did.

The necrons shoved Erison back with another group, shoving a bag onto his head, that tightened quite immobilizingly and was almost suffocating, though somehow permeable. The men seemed to think that perhaps they were being garotted right off, but were surprised that they were able to breathe, despite the shocking pressure. The younger man shouted out in surprise. As they were taken, Levanna seemed to calm down quite a bit.

“Wasted… At least we have something to go on. Maybe if we’re lucky, this Terithia can help us get toward the underworld just close enough to find where they’re holding their families.” The girl said as she seemed to be relieved that the criminals were out of sight. “Sometimes I think that I get a little too nervous around people like that. It’s not like I have forgotten what I do.”

“Don’t worry too much about them, I’m pretty sure Moira will clear the whole bunch for mind-scrubbing the last couple of hours for witness protection purposes,” Than said, “I’m not going to meet any Revered Mother tonight though, we should be getting back,” he said. “We’ve a whole lot of stuff to get organized. And I want to hand this off to a professional...”

“Already done more than enough for me, sweetheart. I’ll remember that for sure.” Levanna said playfully as she gently massaged his shoulder. “Now, are we going back to the house?”

“Yeah, need to pick up Javert and Finn, and talk to everyone there...” he said, “I take it you want to drive?”

“Absolutely, come along.” The girl said as she happily climbed into the driver’s seat and waited for them to climb in, and she carefully and smoothly drove toward the house once again. The girl waited for them to indicate if she was to return to the house or if she was to just wait in the yard. “So, you said you were going to talk with everyone?”

“Yeah, come on, you’re a person too,” Than said, as they walked up to the house, “Actually, before we get in, best ask you now. Do you want to come and stay with us and Finn for a bit? You can help with this thing about peoples’ families, and I think he’d like you to come for a bit, unfamiliar environment and so on.”

“I… would be happy to come along, if it’s not trouble.” Levanna said to Than with warmth. “Maybe I could also stash some of the things from the house as well, keep some things?”

“So long as it’s yours?” Sherin suggested, “or the former owner’s, I don’t think he’ll be coming back...”

“Even better!” Levanna said with a smile. “The chance that I can get a good thing to take with me on the road would be nice. Don’t want to merely look like a bloody harbor strumpet, even if it’s what I am.” She said with a lowering of her tone.

“That’s not what you are,” Sherin said, “and certainly not what you have to be.”

“I can think of things I can do, but goodness knows at least maybe I can fine myself up a bit, I might be able to be one of those girls they get clothes on and show it off on the runways. All refined-like. Maybe I can do it...” The woman said with a quiet trailing off. “I’m only fooling myself aren’t I? Maybe I’m just better off as a… a housekeeper?”

“You’d be amazed what you can do in the right circumstances, everyone is,” Sherin said as they arrived.

The girl entered the house and began to head toward her room and removed a few outfits, normal ones, and a few for pleasure. They were of course in traditional Tor style and she took a few Qagleneki dresses, finding that they were rather cute, and good for housekeeping chores as well. She looked over and waited to see what Than was going to say among the other Prostitutes.

“Hello everyone, could you all gather round for a while I need to ask some quick questions and talk about some issues, and the beastlings too if you could,” he said, waiting until they did so, with the bare minimum of crowd cajoling, “Firstly, you folk,” he said, looking at the beastlings, “do you come from Crystal Spires or Altea?” he asked.

“There are some that were born here, some who were born as D'hɑlbrisir. It is a mixed bunch. I had to teach some of them Common, but I was born in these lands. The people of the West are the ones who speak the D'rɑgolɛthic tongue.”

“Okay, could you ask your comrades; where do you all want to be? You don’t have to decide right away, but either we can move you to a safe area to rest up, or we can try and rush you through to Crystal Spires as soon as possible if you want.”

“I would like to go home.” One of the younger men said tired. “Please, take me home. I’m tired.” The young wolfling said in broken up common.

“Right, where abouts do you come from?” he asked.

“My home is in Bael, the City of Sardoc. It’s the last place I remember I have a home. People who care about me. I don’t know if they miss me though.” The young man said with a slightly defeated tone of voice. “Do you think my family will recognize me?”

“Of course,” he said, “We’ll probably be able to get you home tomorrow, but you need to stay here tonight so that we can keep you safe,” he said, “Is that okay with all of you?”

“Mmm… haj, should be fine.” The older man said as he put his hand on the younger boy’s shoulder. “What’s one more day?”

“I’ll try and fix up the phones here before I leave so you can call people you know,” Than said before looking to the larger group of prostitutes, “Pretty much the same for all of you, but with Altea being what it is, it might be harder to get some of you home,” he said, “I’ve been told that they’re holding some of your families,” he said, “we’re going to be doing what we can to find them and reunite you, but I can’t make any promises.”

“There were…rumors, are the people of D'hɑlbrisir… were they really murdered en masse like the news said it was? I want to know the truth. I know we’ve been… sometimes tortured with lies, but there are some people who have told us that… that it’s true.”

“Not really, there were some border towns razed but we massacred most of the Santrov people who were doing it...” he said, “I can’t promise your families weren’t hurt, but it’s no greater a risk than the local wildlife would have been over the same time period.”

“Then it is a massive relief. I had worried it was much messier with the way people had been describing it here. They relish in the opportunity to tell us of those monsters murdering our families, and saying that the spread was far and wide, knowing what the Alteans were capable of did not help.” The boy said with a sigh of relief.

“And you ladies?” Than said, “and gents, what about you?” he asked the prostitutes, “are you okay with staying here for a while until we sort you out and can be sure you’re safe?”

“Don’t mind much.” One of the male prostitutes said with a smile. “So long as we aren’t in trouble, it’s good enough for me?” He seemed to be almost questioning himself for a moment.

“But sure, why not?” A girl said with a calm flomp on one of the luxurious beds. “Should be a nice change, at least. Being safe and all.”

“Okay, can I have a quick show of hands among the prostitutes, who here was taken from their previous lives against their will?” he sounded improperly jaunty, he reflected with a from, “I mean kidnapped.”

There were a healthy amount of children who rose their hands, and a great amount of younger women and the older women sighed. “Does it even matter much anymore? No one will miss me anymore.” One of them said as she rose her hand.

“Of course that’s a possibility, but wouldn’t you like to know? And even if they did, there’s no way things will get worse for you, with us looking out for you.”

“I suppose there’s no loss then.” The older woman said as she raised her hand as well, slightly defensively. “But… what if something bad happens to our family back home now that we’re released from bondage?”

“That’s part of why it’s important we know who your families are, so that we can find out what’s happened to them and how to keep them safe,” he said.

“Sure, then how will we do that?” The woman asked a bit doubtfully. “I am hoping it’s going to be something that is useful, like sciency things, because in some of our cases… well in my case, I’ve forgotten what my name used to be.”

“Torturing pimps mostly,” Than said, inwardly wincing at that notion, “but of course anything that you can tell us is useful...” he said, taking a scroll-like device of flexible metal from his pocket, rolling it out onto a table, and tapping it briefly, his fingertips causing it to change, splitting along one side into feather-like blades that curved upward, “I’d like everyone to take it in turns to stand in front of me here, say your name, if you can remember it, and hold out your hand, like this,” he said, holding his hand out, a green line appearing on it, and a small image of him appearing next to the fan-like form the feathers had settled into. The numerous prostitutes began to tell him, name after name. Some of them remembering subtle details about places and locations. Others remembering persons and vague locations, but some that were specific enough to include a city name and person names.

The more terrifying things they recounted were their abductions and how they had attempted to escape from bondage, and were ‘taught’ to behave, trained and tortured before becoming refined enough to being trusted in the pimp’s custody. He would dress them up in finery, take care of their welfare, and receive the blood money if one of them was hurt or killed. One of the prostitutes recounted the death of another prostitute in terrifying detail as skin crawling torture was described using disgustingly obscene methods against weaker persons who were not permitted to resist. Others would describe prostitutes having sickness and going mad after the lesions burned away at their skin, the painful sickness making them no longer useful. They would be ejected and disassociated from the Teahouse and would be cut off from pay and board. From which that point, they would be sick and without recourse for help. Some of the women and boys just withered away, starved to death, found with sunken skin along the docks, discarded like trash. Others would go mad and attempt to kill others, to take them with them. It did not go well, however when their fury was met with the dispassionate lethality of the Town Guard.

The Prostitutes also recounted their fear of the town guard, the feeling that they would never really be able to trust them with their lives, because they were not important enough to merit action if they were harmed. The women would recount having been beaten and mugged on the street, with no one coming to their aid, no matter how loudly nor how desperate their cries were. They were whores, so they didn’t matter. The Guard would even tell them on occasion to take their problems somewhere else, and to stop creating a ruckus in public. A few prostitutes recalled they had police records of public disorderly conduct, as they had screamed for help, and when the pub owners called for help, rather than arrest the man or woman committing assault, they would arrest the prostitute for causing significant trouble and promoting domestic disturbances. They were the whores and homewreckers, so they were always the problem. They remembered the conditions in the jails, sometimes they would have to sleep with the guards to get released, or they would be forgotten. To Than’s horror, they would simply laugh and say ‘Bygones be bygones’ with regards to this horrible conduct, and didn’t seem to take it personally.

“They merely wanted to sample the goods for free, they’re policemen. If a bribe’s what they want, I got no money, so I give them what I got.” A young boy said with a smile. “Why? You want to have a go?” He asked as he reached for his belt.

“No, thank you,” Than said, attempting to remain dispassionate, or at least, to conceal his shock and look sympathetic. Javert failed utterly, and seemed to be wanting to shoot the Town Guard five minutes into the first such tale, while Sherin was the only one that actually suppressed his responses to the corruption.

“That’s not how we work,” Sherin said, in a tone of helpfulness.

“I’ve some experience, so I could make you have a good time, but perhaps you’re not interested in me because I’m a boy, I can talk with Sister Haria, I’m sure she and a few others could make it worth your while. It’s the least we can do, you know?”

“But if you are going to keep off from that kind of thing, I recommend you be careful, right? Town Guard can be troublesome. Haven’t killed anyone yet though this week, I suppose this is a good thing. I suppose it’s because we’ve been getting less sick with the new policies. They gave us health insurance, you know? Shocking thing to happen.”

“I’ll say.” One of the women said with a worried expression. “Sondra was getting sick, and I think she’s on medicine now. Should be okay to go back into work by next week even. Won’t even need to be thrown out.”

“I’m genuinely flattered, thank you, but no,” Than said.

“Is she here?” Sherin asked as Than uploaded the testimony and genetic profiles collected so far.

“I’m here… do you need to speak with me about something?” Sondria asked as she looked over at the trio with her dark violet colored eyes and she took her finger and pulled her long red hair over her ear. She seemed to be nervous. “I’m… not dying or anything.”

“May I ask how you are anyway?” he said, “I’m a healer,” he added, nodding to Finn, whose story had probably gotten around by now.

“I… am doing much, much, better.” The girl said flattered with their worry. “They said I wouldn’t go mad or anything. It’s really neat.” She said as she crossed her arms uncomfortably. “This said, um… I still have marks and I am still on medicine.”

“May I have a look at your medication?” he asked. He wasn’t too worried about her, from the look of her, but you never knew, with Altea, if it was the real deal or some kind of unregistered experimental drug.

[Kashion]

“Uh, sure here you are.” She said as she handed a bottle of anti-biotics to the C’tani, and it seemed to be made from a local producer, which of course raised suspicion of its chemical makeup.

“Can I borrow one of these pills? I’ll get you more from our stores tomorrow,” he said.

“Sure, that’s more than reasonable. So long as I am still taking them. I am supposed to keep taking them for a few days, otherwise the sickness can come back and get worse. On a clinical trial, I am.”

“Always finish the course, yes,” he said, as his suspicions were duly confirmed. Someone to arrest tomorrow, no doubt,

“Of course, but I hope that will help, are you sick?” She asked with a glimpse that indicated concern.

“Not at all, it’s just always worth checking these things. We might have something better.”

“Oh, Ok. But won’t this damage my candidacy in the clinical trials?” The girl asked as she leaned over the little boy’s shoulder. He seemed to like this and lay back into Sondra. She gave the boy a hug and watched Than with curiosity. “So what exactly will be done from here?”

“Well, we’ve arranged for some other guards to stay with you folks along with the necrons, we’ve got to get back home to report on all this, and frankly, get some sleep...” Than said.

“Alright.” Sondra said as she approached the boy, and pat him on the head. “Go and nap, it’s been a long day, sweetheart.”

“Do I have to share a bed with the beastmen? They don’t seem to have places where they can rest.”

“I’m sure you guys can sort yourselves out,” he said, “Don’t forget the pimp’s rooms, if you’ve some overflow.”

“Very well, but what are we going to do about them if we don’t have enough room still? Should we see if we can make makeshift beds from the blanket piling?” Levanna asked as she imagined they could probably also make clothes piles if necessary.

“Well you’re coming with us to help with the report anyway,” he said to Levanna, “but I’m sure someone can sort something out,” he said, as the sound of a vehicle opening outside suggested the guards he’d mentioned had arrived.

“Alright then, let’s head out and … who is driving us?” The girl asked stunned with fear for a moment, remembering the terrifying ride. “Is Finn coming with us?”

“Yeah, I’ll drive,” Sherin said, stepping outside, pausing to talk to the guards who’d arrived a group of six in all.

Finn stepped out and looked at Levanna who was pale chalk white in terror. He was not happy with this idea, but he was at least glad if he was going to die in an accident he would at least have less regrets on his mind.

“Alright then… Okay, where are we off to?” Finn asked as he looked up to Sherin and then looked over at Than.

Sherin paused, taking out a global of a less sophisticated make than the one Than had used.

“Greythorn Jail, the staff quarters, of course,” Than said.

“Greythorn Jail? Right, you’re a-a bounty hunter type, I forgot, a jail guard who looks after the people attempting to skip off punishment and the like. So how far away is it from here?” Finn asked as he hoped they could be able to walk instead.

“About forty miles,” Than said, “and not a bounty hunter, I was just looking for one of the criminals out here... a bit of a personal issue.”

“Hoh? What kind of criminal? Maybe I can help you out. I know quite a few criminals… well, because of the nature of my work and contacts...I, hope this isn’t a problem. I can give you a hand if you need it, you’ve helped me so it’s the least I can do.”

“Got him, the fence fellow, from before,” Than said, as an aircraft of some sort truned toward them circling the area in the night-darkness. Finn followed Than and wondered which car they were taking, and he seemed to stick as close as possible, as he hated to admit it, but he was still quite afraid that he’d get hurt again. His day had been very distressing.

“So you’re all set to go then?” Finn asked as he seemed to keep his eye trained on the aircraft.

A small spotlight shone down from it, and it descended, a sleek and black vehicle, almost square in places, obviously intended to take a beating, with some kind of turret on its upper roll-bar. It settled to the ground by the side of the road quite neatly.

“Now you’ll see driving,” Sherin said.

“Whoa… What is THAT?” Finn asked as he seemed to be stunned by its strangeness and he wondered where he was supposed to sit.

“It’s a Guv, here,” he said, opening up the door at the middle of its side, the rear section a flat cargo area with long, shutter-doors instead, “Leva and Javert, in the back,” he said.

Levanna sat beside Javert and looked over at him with a curious expression. “What kind of machine is this? I’ve not seen such a thing before. Is it anything like a…like how he drives regular cars?” The girl asked with her hand clenched into a fist.

“Apparently not,” Javert said, as Than got in the passenger seat and Sherin sat down in the empty driver’s seat, flicking a switch and doing something on a touch-screen control before pulling a lever and doing something with his other hand, levitating them smoothly into the air. Finn sighed with relief as he closed his eyes and lay against his seat, his shoulders less tense than before as he realized that he was unlikely to end up smashed about.

They shot out across the town, gaining altitude minute by minute, Than keeping an eye on several other systems, mainly in case someone tried to shoot them down. In a few minutes they were out over the countryside. “Want to see something cool?” Sherin asked.

“Show me.” Finn asked as Levanna was feeling a tad nauseated, but perhaps was afraid of heights.

The world flipped upside down outside; which was to say it didn’t feel like they were flying upside down, but the whole environment cartwheeled around them until the sky was down and the land up.

“W-What just happened?” The boy asked as he looked over at the screen and he seemed to be utterly amused by the insanely awesome display. “Did we actually flip over?”

“Yeah. We don’t really feel most of the motion in here,” he said, spinning around in a dizzying manner.

“So we’re barrel rolling through the sky, and we can’t even feel it at all?” He asked as he looked at Levanna who instinctively grabbed whatever she could, still feeling like the concept terrified her, but feeling oddly disjointed, as if it was a movie and the camera was flipping over rather than the room itself.

“Yeah,” he said, finally putting them the right way up and back on course to their destination, passing above the clouds. “I can drive this, no problem. And that, Levanna, is inertial compensators in action.”

“It feels like we’re watching a movie on a TV screen, that is spinning about, spinning spinning, but we’re not moving at all, but we are, so it’s so strange to me. Is it normal to not feel like you’re moving at all?”

“Usually you’ll not be doing any extreme manouvers and it won’t kick in so much,” he said, tapping the touch-screen again, “But I had it jacked right up there,” he said, turning it down a bit, and it felt suddenly as if they were in motion, seeming to start moving from stationary, though not especially quick. “There we are, Greythorn Jail,” he said, pointing at a rambling pile of grey and green in the distance, covering several farm fields, a derelict house poking up at one end toward the road.

Levanna steadied herself as she felt a lot more relief knowing she was on the ground, and she let out a sigh in relief. Just as she reached towards the area where the doorway was, Finn carefully waited for Sherin and Than and Javert to step out before following behind them.

“Eirin Greythorn Jail, huh? It looks… much less terrifying than I thought. Is the gallows here or in the back, I wonder” Finn said aloud. “Always thought that I’d end up in that situation, but now I’m kind of relieved thinking it’s there.”

Than looked at the vehicle park, where the skeletal shapes of necron vehicles mixed with more mundane vehicles, mundane at least to him, “We don’t have a gallows, this is just the jail, we don’t do sentences out here...” he said, “If we needed to I think someone has a laser-guillotine somewhere in stores though.”

It was built out of endless piles of shipping containers, it seemed, and easily a hundred of those had been set up on one side, while concrete walls with an inverted T cross section stood dividing the prison up into different areas.

“Where do you usually work, Than?” The boy asked as he looked over toward the strange vehicles with curiosity. “I hope, not in there.”

“Humm? Depends what you mean? In the prison, yes, quite often, but I do have to go other places, too,” he said, heading toward an administration building made out of several dozen of the ubiquitous building blocks, some of them made of transparent-plastic on one or more facings, letting the carpeted and furnished interiors be seen through them.

“I meant more hanging around the prisoners who want to hurt you. Generally that would be a pretty nasty situation and could get ugly really quick. Is there no prison riots, prison breakouts?” Finn clarified.

“Not yet, of course, those happen in a lot of countries. But they’re unlikely here...” he said.

“So you should be safe for a while at least. That’s better at least. I thought that the place would be much gloomier inside.” The boy said as he looked over at Sherin. “Or is this only the visitor’s center?”

“This is where we hang out, yeah, over that wall,” he pointed to one of the concrete barriers, topped with something like razor-wire, “is where we keep the slavers. But it’s quite safe, there’s a minefield between those walls, and guards. And more.”

“A Minefield eh? It’s practically a base, if you put it that way. What’s the news on the slavers in there anyway? I kind of hardly expect that they’ll stay for long in there. I thought they’re supposed to die or something.”

“They get trials, this is where they are kept before they’re convicted, after that they’re sent on to the prison and shipped out to serve their sentence, which is either death, or lifetime deportation.”

"Lifetime deportation? What kind of punishment is that?"

“A very lenient one. One of my jobs is to make sure it is and remains a punishment. Just finished sorting out a placement to put a fellow called Raszler out on a labouring job in a glacier...”

“So how come there is lifetime deportation instead of having some sort of imprisonment for a long time, or hard labor or something?” Levanna asked, wondering if deportment was really a punishment, if it weren’t some sort of banishment.

“We don’t believe in long term imprisonment if we can avoid it. It’s still too good for the little fucker but that’s politics for you,” Than said, as they walked up to an office where a dark haired elven woman leaned out to look at the group. “If it’s any consolation he’ll be getting regular thrashings,” Than added.

“All hail the conquering heroes!” she said.

“Hah you did about as much as we did. Levanna, Finn, may I present Moriel nos Anarmacar, ‘Technician’ of the Internal Security Agency. She questions the prisoners, and also did our outfits and support from here.”

“Some of the support. You can’t say Sari didn’t help.”

“Quite,” Than said.

“Hello, Lady Moriel, might I say you look absolutely beautiful, is that outfit from here or from C’tan?” Levanna asked cordially, using her usual charming flattery.

She raised an eyebrow, “C’tan,” she said, “Come, let’s go to the common room,” she said, “I think you folks could probably use a drink.”

“A drink? Of course, I would love to share a drink.” Levanna said as she seemed to consider the C’tani friendly to offer a drink. Finn seemed eager to have a drink as well, regardless of not being the proper age.

The area she went to was a canteen, rather than a bar, and a self-service kind of setup, various appliances on the wall and chairs and tables set up through the room, there seemed to be no one in ther room, but it was an open area, with a sign up in the corner reading “GROUP COUNSELING TIMES” and several sessions below.

The elf took a kettle, putting it on, “What do you want? We’ve black and green tea, and chocolate. Even got some coffee somewhere.”

“Hmm? what kind of chocolate?” Levanna asked apprehensively.

“Awww, and here I thought there was going to be real drinks.” Finn said playfully patting Javert. “I’ll smuggle in some booze for you guys some time. It becomes clear why you all head off to Mordovia, we might not have the best people, but we’ve got the best booze.”

“Hah, Certainly not. We’ll have no smuggling here,” Javert said, sitting down, “one starts with small disorder and ends up with major crimes. I do not drink alcohol.”

“Hot chocolate?” Moriel said, “C’tani in fact, it’s quite well regarded...”

“I think I could go for some hot chocolate!” Levanna said warmly as Finn nervously laughed to himself. He was already feeling that comment that Javert made had a bit of a stinging bite, as he had already committed major crimes before, and didn’t think smuggling was a big deal. Apparently he was wrong.

“Hmm… Coffee.” Finn said tersely with distraction rattling his mind.

Sherin squeezed Finn’ shoulder briefly, “I on the other hand, do,” he said, as the elven lady came back with three teas, two chocolates and one coffee, something she had to read the label to try and figure out, looking quizzical at one point.

“Instant coffee... weird.”

“Has more caffeine! It’s really great. Have you had instant coffee before?” Finn asked, relieved that it wasn’t actually real coffee.

“I can’t recall ever having done so,” she said, “wouldn’t usually make it myself...” she added, setting the cup down in front of him.

“Do you have fake sugar?” Finn asked as he looked over at the woman carefully. “I know they say it gives you cancer, but it’s got a sort of addictive quality to it, and I don’t much like sugar in my instant coffee.”

“Let’s see... we’ve got something that’s supposed to make it healthier for necrontyr, and ahah, here we are, sweetener? That’s the stuff?”

“Hmmm… let’s see…” Finn took a package of sweetener and tried it alone without the coffee, and nodded his head, “I think this will work.” He said as he started to stir in about five packages in before looking for another one. “Hmm? Where is the…” He found another and stirred it in and began to drink it. Levanna seemed to tilt her head to the side as he drank it.

“How… do you drink that?” She asked wondering herself how he could stomach it.

“High energy metabolism perhaps?” Than asked, “Humm, hey, hold up a sec...”

“Don’t be an ass,” Sherin said, as Than went and looked through a pile of table shakers, picking something out, and putting it in front of the boy.

“Try this. Necrontyr grade sweetener. Same stuff, much, much stronger.”

The boy tore open the package of sweetener and tilted his head back as he deposited its whole contents onto his tongue. The taste was like having one’s teeth covered in sweet, sickening and sharp, throbbing, making his tongue pulse in time with his heartbeat. The boy’s eyes widened as he grasped his fist into a ball, and was hyperventilating for a moment, as he seemed to make a choking gasp, and he let out a nonsensical whimper for a moment before extending his hand out.

“C-Can… I have… another?” He asked as he was still hyperventilating.

“What? You’re only supposed to take a tiny shake of it!” he said, bemused, “You mean.. water, right? Or lemon juice or something?”

“That… was incredible. It was like no drug I have ever had before… I want. another… please. It won’t kill me on a second shot will it?” He asked as he seemed to still be holding his hand out.

“Mmm, it’s not a drug, it’s just... really strong .And no, you shouldn’t have too much of it, it’ll make your pee burn.”

“Take too much and it’ll burn your liver up if you let it become a habit,” Sherin said.

“Ah, so it is a drug then. If it kills away my liver then it is probably a drug and not, say, sugar. That’ll just make me fat.” The boy said as he slightly twitched his eyebrow. “Dear gods that is sweet. I feel like I could eat a whole chili pepper and still have it taste like a candybar.”

“No, it’s food, it’s just not for human consumption,” Sherin said, “or Tiefling, for that matter.”

“Have I been poisoned then? Heh, I must have ticked Than off.” Finn said with a cheerful smile. “Maybe...but I would say it is a good prank. Well played. It reminds me of that time I played a joke on one of my masters, I gave him a bit of D'hɑlbrisirian pepper that was the size of a thumbnail. Spiciest thing ever. The thing made him cry like a baby.”

“You won’t get sick from that much. You’ll probably regret it if you eat say, six or seven of those packets.”

“I will be tasting sugar for a week though, I’d imagine.” Finn laughed from still feeling the high, and he sipped away his instant coffee which tasted ungodly sweet.

“After a couple of hours I think you’ll stop noticing,” Than said, as he sat down, “So, you guys want the grand tour?”

“I certainly would, show us around!” Levanna said as she seemed to consider it quite unusual. It didn’t seem much like any prison she had seen before. They were usually dull places for the people within it, and torture for people who were imprisoned in it.

“You should drink that first,” Moriel said, nodding to the hot chocolate.

“Sounds alright.” She said as she sipped the chocolate. She thought it was rather silky and rich. Richer than she had ever had before. She had not often had good chocolate, but she did imagine that her memory failed to measure up to this chocolate in the slightest.

“Good?” Moriel asked, a little while later.

“It’s better than any chocolate I have ever had before, for sure.” Levanna explained, though she was not wealthy enough to get good chocolate anyhow.

“Okay, may I?” Sherin asked, when she was done, collecting the drinks and putting them in a washer nearby.

“There’s only so much we can show you here, some of this stuff is restricted of course, but we can show you the control room, and some other bits,” Moriel said.

“Restricted? So there are secret shenanigans that occur here? Are they fun, do they involve sex, and a plunger?” Finn asked as he managed to follow behind.

“Nothing like that. It’s much less exciting than it sounds,” Moriel said, as they passed a briefing room, and walked into a control room, with several metal pillars holding up rows of monitors along one wall, showing views from watch-towers and scrolling between the interiors of cells, in night vision.

“Oooh what’s this?” Finn asked as he examined the screens, he seemed to be oddly confused by their colors and was not sure if it was one way or a two way camera. “So we can see into their cells?”

One of the staff sat behind the control board grinned, “Yeah. Can even talk to them if you want, want to see the new arrivals?” he asked, hitting a few controls, bringing up the dozens of screens showing the various pimps and customers who’d been brought in in the last hour.

“Huh, that’s… rather impressive. I wonder where my master is.” The boy asked as he looked over at the Moira and he smiled. “I know he’s not my master anymore, but I hardly know his real name.”

“Cell two seven six, I think,” the fellow said, calling up an image of a crate with four bunks in it along one wall and various men inside it.

“Hiya Master. I hope things are not too shitty yet!” Finn said with a wave regardless of whether he was heard or not.

“Oh, hang on, putting you on now...” the C’tani said.

“You mean he can actually hear me?” Finn asked blankly for a moment before cursing to himself . “Oh… Hello Master, it is me.” He said regaining his composure.

“He’s still alive?” The Pimp muttered to himself before laughing and pointing at the camera. “You are so fucked, you little bitch. When the others find out what you’ve done, there will be no where you can hide. No where.”

“Nice to see you too!” Finn said with a grin. “You know, Than, I think he is trying to threaten me.”

“Security to cell two seven six, take prisoner seven sixty three to the shame cube,” the operator said into some kind of announcement system.

“Than, I am curious, what is the shame cube?” The boy asked as he seemed to break out in a cold sweat but was hiding such nerves from behind his smiling façade.

“Little tungsten box out in one of the yards, there are actually several, three foot to a side...” Than said, watching as the door opened and a group of guards entered.

“What do they do, I mean. I can’t imagine they’re just a regular isolation chamber.” The boy said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Unless they are.”

“YOU ARE GOING TO DIE, YOU FUCKING BITCH! MARK MY WORDS.” The pimp shouted as he was grabbed by the guards.

“Shut up,” one snapped and jabbed him in the groin with the shock prod he carried before they hauled the fellow off out of the cell, closing it behind them.

“Really a pleasant guy, as you know.” Finn laughed as he looked for another sweetener package, forgetting the burning sweetness on his tongue already. “At least I can be pretty sure he’s not going to come after me this time. More likely it will be his friends.”

“Why would they?” Sherin asked, “You don’t think he’ll ever be talking to his friends again do you?”

“No, but he has a superior who is likely really pissed at me. I’d hate to be around once that happens to go around. After all, this hasn’t been the first time I’ve caused them trouble.” Finn explained. “Since they made me do a lot of things they also had to rely on me keeping silent about what they ordered me to do, and if I decided I wanted to let information… slip it would be a bad thing for them. After all, I think killing people tends to be bad for business, and I had plenty of blackmail against them, and now that I’m out of their reach with little reason to not disclose it, they’re probably going to do whatever they can to ensure I don’t shit on their parade more.”

“Fat chance of them succeeding, anyway,” Sherin said, “They’d need to find you first.”

“See, and that’s why I’m counting on you guys. Provided that I’m not too much trouble at least. I have tried at least to be less trouble to you guys, don’t know if it’s true or not.” Finn explained. “But if I am at any point too much trouble, please let me know. It won’t be any good if I’m around and a headache.”

Finn looked relieved that the pimp was out of sight and he wondered what else he would find in the strange prison, and of course what they were looking for.

“So, you guys want to get situated or do you need anything?” Than asked.

*I think I should be alright.” Finn said as he attempted to flop upon what looked relatively chair like and he closed his eyes and his ears twitched as he scratched his hair where the horns were upon his head.

“No no, not here,” Moriel protested, “this is a working area! We have guest accommodation.”

“Awww, I like this spot, but I suppose if we must.” Finn threw his hands up as he headed towards the area where the guest accomodations were indicated and he began to rummage through the location to see what was around.

“Up here,” Sherin said, as they neared what appeared to be a titanic pile of containers, with open metal gridwork stairs like fire escapes up one side and a portable elevator system at the other, held in a rickety looking metal frame. They took the stairs.

“Is this going to hold us?” The boy asked as he attempted to head up the stairs as quickly as he could, feeling nervous about the movement as he opened the way in front not sure if he was heading the right way. “Also, you guys mentioned something about C’tan before. You guys don’t come from the same place, and if so who am I going to crash with?”

“We come from the same country, but it’s a big one, and it’d be my people you’d be with, Aligrethans,” Sherin said, jumping up and down slightly on the stairs, “More solid than they look.”

“To my surprise at least, but I cannot really say it doesn’t make me nervous, but what is Aligreth supposed to be like? Is it hot or cold, bright or dark?” the boy asked as he opened the door.

The door lead to a long corridor, with more doors off it, “Hot, bright days, dark nights, cold nights too, It’s where I live, I told you earlier.”

“Well I meant also… you guys don’t have big creatures there do you? No huge giant monsters or anything, or killer creatures that come out only at night time?” The boy asked as he pondered whether he might have to fight those things again. Last time he fought a monster he almost was killed, thus he wasn’t happy at the idea of having to tangle with them again.

“Giant scorpions? Come up sixteen meters long in some cases, but they’re only in the far south.”

“So long as I don’t have to fight them. Nearly got into trouble with a young wyvern and that would have been a nasty thing had it not been for that falcon kid. I think he disappeared a while ago. I didn’t think of it much because his sister also disappeared with him so I figured they moved out.”

“Hopefully,” Than said, “maybe they slipped the border? It’s not far from here. Here we are, guest quarters,” he said, opening one of the doors to reveal a long thin room, set inside a single one of the dozens of shipping containers that made up the ‘building.’

Finn attempted to rummage through the guest room as he wondered if there was anything useful within it, and also attempted to see if there was a comfortable place for him to sit down on. He saw the bed in the distance and flopped upon it comfortably with a big wide smile.

“Agh, this is much better!” Finn said as he looked over at Than and Sherin.

“There should be food in the cupboard, if you don’t feel like coming down to the canteen again for breakfast,” Than said. “I’m six doors along, if you need anything.”

“And there’s no chance the other guys will get out, right?” Finn asked with a narrow glanced eyes. “Umm… right?”

“You are safer now than you have ever been. There are hundreds of guards here, and necrons, and dogs, and robot dogs, and barbed wire and giant walls,” Sherin said, “all of which will put themselves between you and harm. Except maybe the dogs.”

“Well I like dogs, so I would probably take the hint from the dogs and bugger off when they do.” Finn said with a chuckle. “Though, you said you guys will be right next door? Okay then… so if I need you guys is there a specific code other than the knock? Do you guys do the doorknob hat?”

“It’s a prison, I’m not going to be... doing anything of that nature,” Than said.

“I somehow think you might change your mind if the right thing comes along. There’s also the chance that I might bring a friend, after all I don’t know how long we’ll be staying here, and I didn’t sign any ‘celibacy’ contract!” Finn said with a tsk of his head. “Plus, I might need money when I go to C’tan won’t I?”

“You won’t need money and... no guests. We can’t have you inviting people into our jail.”

“Aw, spoilsports. Also what do you mean, I shan’t need any money? I’m going to be off on my own, so quite obviously I will be. There’s no way that I will be able to just get things like a flat and food from nothing, can I?”

“You won’t be off on your own, we’ll find someone to look after you,” Sherin said.

“Won’t that just be a burden for them? I’m not much anything that will be useful for them outside what I already do, and somehow I don’t think that an elder person will want to have a kid whose only talents are fucking and killing things.” The boy said with a slight cringe as in his mind that was about all he was good for.

“You’re not that old,” Than said, looking nonplussed, “Why wouldn’t anyone want to look after you?”

“Because I am a tiefling and because I am a magnet for trouble somehow. I tend to have some sort of curse in which I tend to draw the attention of perhaps the most interesting people. This level of ‘Interesting’ often means that I pick up people who are going to make any person who’s lookin’ after me think twice about keeping me near them. Or it should at least, if they’re not mad.” The boy said with a subconscious attempt to hug himself. “I mean, I would make them unsafe wouldn’t I?”

“How?” the priest asked, “No one sensible dislikes tieflings.”

“I’ve not actually met any sensible people then outside of you, and I suppose people like you are rarer than you think.” Finn said as he lie back on the bed. “Ah, don’t worry about it, I’ll figure something out about it. If I get ditched again then I’ll think of something. I always do.”

“Goodnight Finn,” Than said, as they stepped outside, and closed the door, and showed Levanna into the next room along, “And this is yours,” he said with a smile.

Levanna seemed to be less worried about the crisis of confidence regarding what her future was. She saw things as generally going from day to day and without having much of trouble in the case of having a caring family. That time was already gone and passed. The boy of course she imagined was not actually asleep nor did she expect he was. She nodded to Than warmly as she gestured at the door. “And you lads will be on that side, am I correct?”

“Six down for me, Sherin’s on the ground floor, number six.”


“Alright then, I’ll remember to see if I can get a hold of you lads if I need anything, and I’ll try and keep an eye on the pessimist.” She said gesturing to Finn’s room.

“I don’t think he’ll try and hurt himself, and he’ll be stopped if he tries to get off the base, so he’s probably okay, but thanks.”

“Still, I want to thank you all for everythin’. You’ve been good lads. I can’t know if that’s because ye’ve been raised right or somethin’ but I can see that Finn at least trusts you all. Kids see things that older people can’t sometimes.” Levanna said as she reached toward the bed and lie down and undressed, unfussed if they had left or not.

The night would come and Levanna would sleep through the night untroubled, and Finn wouldn’t sleep much at all as he kept waking every so often and would pace in his room and rummage through the desk and the office supplies, and he’d make little objects to entertain himself including several paper hats and a paper boat and a paper plane which were all carefully folded and he made a small paperclip catapult for which he would carefully aim it at the door and plink it happily as it made a clattering noise against the wall. By the time he had finally managed to tire himself out it was already morning and he had fallen asleep with his head on the desk.

Than’s night was actually very similar, and he had to gland a variety of stimulants, a process that required entering a brief meditative state, as he didn’t use a cybernetic interface system for the ability, instructing his body to manufacture a series of drugs called ‘daybreak 8’ and ‘dawnlight’ which were commonly used to extend activity, he sat most of the night to transcribe and dictate reports, passing Finn’s room in the morning, knocking on the door. “You up in there?”

Finn shook himself awake and opened the door and accidently activated one of his paperclip catapults and hit himself upside the head with one. Then he looked up at Than with a smirk. “Been up, it’s just too quiet in here. I’m used to the sounds of thumping and the sounds of wild sex and crazed orgasms.” He lied as he pat Than on the shoulder.

“Had a nice night?” He asked as he looked a bit ragged around the edges.

“Busy, didn’t sleep either. You want to get some chow?”

“Sure, I could use a good snack. Only had Potatoes all week… and onions. Well Potatoes and onions aren’t so bad if you can pilfer a few sprigs of chives and some sour cream.” The boy said with a shrug. “Not much of a cook though, what you got here?”

“I’m not up on the cooking rota today so I have no idea, probably the usual kind of thing, toast, sausages, bacon, nothing very exciting, folks tend to prefer locally sourced. You’re not a vegetarian are you?”

“Who is a vegetarian nowadays?” Finn asked as he seemed to be surprised that anyone not rich was a vegetarian. In his mind it was a rich person’s sickness. Instead he happily smiled and wondered if that meant that they’d have the amazing breakfast sausages and the peanut fed hickory smoked bacon and ham. He noticed immediately however there was no morning scent of coffee which was so common among Altean breakfasts. He had to tilt his head to ponder where the coffee smell was realizing ultimately there was no coffee anywhere.

The refectory was full, with low set tables and benches in the middle of the room and plastiform chairs made of a single piece of extruded fabricator resin making up the rest of the furniture, a long service counter set with various items and sets of tongs, “Take however much you want,” Than added, suspected Finn might fear having to pay.

“Are you sure? I think I don’t have much on me, and this can’t really be free… can it?” He asked with a curious sense of insecurity as he looked at all the tempting food before him but he couldn’t see any prices on them.

“After a certain point we might have to raid the prisoner’s food supplies if you eat everything but no, you’re a guest and it’s free.”

The boy got bacon, steak, scrambled eggs with cheese, apple turnovers, pancakes with syrup, pan-fried potatoes along with onions, green and red bell peppers with cold corn puffs with milk. He seemed to devour the meal oddly quickly and was still looking for more corn puffs floating in the milk with his spoon before tilting the bowl and sipping it like a saucer of soup. He looked back at the food, and looked back at his empty plates and prodded his plate with his fork making a scraping noise.

Sat down with Javert, Sherin and Levanna, Than watched with amusement, “Expecting someone to try and take it off you?” he asked, as Finn wolfed it down.

“I…. kinda think so. Didn’t expect I’d get through it all, and… didn’t even enjoy it much.” He blushed as he scratched his ear. “I’m still kind of hungry but too embarrassed to go back up.” He said as he picked up the fork and prodded the empty plate a little as Levanna pat him on the head.

“I don’t care if anyone thinks me a fat cow, I’ll getcha what ye want, just tell me which.” The prostitute said with a pet of the boy’s head.

“I liked all of it, but I ate it too quickly.” He said with a blush. “I think… more of the bacon, steak and eggs… and the cereal and potatoes. The Turnovers were also nice, but this time when you get pancakes, can you try the blueberry topping instead?” He asked as she realized he was asking for like four plates loaded with food.

Javert put down his fork, taking the plates off the boy, no point in wasting any washing up, even if that did consist of throwing the plastiform plates into the machine, and following Levanna.

Levanna stood by Javert as she was loading the plates with food and she quietly whispered to him. “You think the boy has eaten much all week? I heard he nearly got arrested for stealing bread and was found in a bed of straw again. Meaning he got tossed out for a while ago. I’m not sure if it’s okay to give him so much food. Isn’t it that when you give people who have been starving for a while too much food that it can kill them?” She asked worriedly.

“I have no idea,” Javert said, “you should ask someone who’s more familiar with medicine.”

“I don’t know if anyone is, but I am thinking more of the hear and now on whether I should load the plates up too much or a little bit.” Levanna asked as she decided to just keep it more along the median between the two. “But let’s see if Sherin knows, or maybe Than. Do either of them know much about medicine in this way?”

“Sherin does,” he said, “there is also a physician, Doctor Mariash, over there,” he said, pointing to a necrontyr sat on another table.

“I’ll see if I can ask her more secretive, because if I ask Sherin in front of Finn he might overhear and get offended or something.” Levanna said as she approached the Necrontyr and attempted to see if she was busy, or if she perhaps wanted privacy for her breakfast and let out a mild “Excuse me, Madame?” She asked uncertain if Mariash was a lady’s or a man’s name.

“Yes?” she asked, looking up.

“I’m sorry to disturb your breakfast, but I wished to ask you about a young boy who ‘as been having a rough time on the streets, and I am not sure if he’s doing alright healthwise. It’s ‘ard to tell because he’s sort of prideful, and I am not sure if he’s alright. Someone told me you’re a reliable doctor, so I thought of asking you to give me a hint of advice. Can it hurt the boy to give him twice this much food after he’s had nothing to eat for a week and a half?”

“Refeeding syndrome? It would depend on his state beforehand, which I don’t know, has he had any substantive food in the last two days?”

“A piece of bread.” The woman said with a worried expression. “He also just wolfed down about this much food as I am carrying… well and that other chap over there just now.” The girl said as she watched Finn scrape the table with his fork.

Mariash gave a distinct frown and stood up, “Let’s go have a look at him.”

Finn seemed to be Enthusiastic to receive more corn puffs from Javert and he quickly poured the milk and cereal and was feeling a tad nauseated as he attempted to eat, this time taking his time and he set his eyes upon Levanna who was carrying the rest of the food, and he did not immediately notice Mariash before clearing his throat and he looked over at the woman and bowed his head. “‘Lo There… you a friend of Levanna’s?”

“No, I’m one of the doctors here,” she said, “Hold still for me for a moment,” she said, taking off her jacket, and revealing silvery tattoos up her arms.

He looked blankly at the woman for a moment seeming to be confused and he stood still as he took a deep breath as he looked over at the woman curiously. He seemed to be in rather poor health, but it wasn’t merely due to malnutrition, there were signs of physical abuse and bones healing the wrong way, and perhaps even worse that couldn’t be immediately seen. He was thin and seemed to be weak and didn’t resist any movement.

Skin contact haptics were widespread among doctors, and almost ubiquitous among surgeons, a system of seed-sized implants that laced into the nervous system and series of complex electoos and skinplants and allowed a wide variety of interface and diagnostic tools to literally be at the user’s fingertips. Without conscious thought, blood oxygen, blood pressure readings, pulse and other vitals were recorded. Magnetic resonance systems took images that derived blood pressure and other factors, while magnetic resonance spectroscopy recorded biomolecular data like protein composition and genetic code from his body, performing in seconds what an Altean hospital expensive diagnostic procedures. By placing her hands in the right places she

Mariash frowned, “It won’t immediately be a problem but you should have a shot twice daily just in case,” she said, “I’ve the right stuff in my surgery, it’s nothing special,” she said, “symptoms don’t develop for between many hours and usually a couple of days, depending, but you might feel a variety of unusual symptoms if you try to gorge like that. I wouldn’t think the indigestion is worth it.”

The treatment was simple enough, the medicine normally known as Metalayse, an intravenous supplement intended for recovering from hibernation sickness, which contained substantial potassium and other essentials as well as a nanocolony that balanced electrolytes and liver function, as well as stimulated amino acid function to assist in rapidly converting protein in food to productive body mass. The boy didn’t seem to be excited by the thought of being stuck with needles and feeding tubes, but naturally he took less joy at the idea of dropping dead from eating too much as well. He attempted to speak up but then stopped himself.

“Did I mess up or something?” Finn asked as he looked at Javert in confusion. The boy seemed to consider the unusual attention by doctors to be strange. Usually they would just give him nothing more than pain relievers which of course at this rate he was terribly addicted to them, and sent him on his way. The boy seemed to look at Sherin in confusion as well.

“No, just, take it slow, and you’ll find that your stomach should settle,” Sherin said, as Mariash smiled, “Come see me before I start going over the prisoners,” she said.

Levanna set the food in front of Finn and pet his head affectionately for a moment before Finn sighed. “Alright then, slow then.” Finn said as he munched on the bacon and reached for the juice as he untucked a bottle of medicine from his small pouch. He removed a couple pills and put them on his tongue and sipped the juice and medicine down.

“What’re the pills?” Mariash asked.

“Morphine.” The boy said openly. “Guy tried to kill me earlier. Need a fix me up.” The boy said as he looked over at the woman as he shook the bottle. “Got a prescription for it though.”

“Ah, this reminds me,” Sherin said, taking the pill he’d borrowed from before from a small cigarette box in his pocket, and holding it out, “could you have a look at this for me?” he asked, passing it to Mariash, who held it between her thumb and forefinger, resonance spectroscopy producing a list of its compounds, and measuring the bonds between atoms, the mental part of her cybernetics producing a list of components and appending their known medical effects.

“Where did you get this?” the necrontyr asked.

“Off one of the prostitutes,” Sherin replied, “It’s supposed to be some antibiotic or other.”

“It’s not, it’s contaminated, it’s not even a decent sugar pill,” she said.

“Contaminated?” Finn asked as he was now hesitant to take his own medicine and examined it for a moment critically. “How can you tell just by looking at it?”

She held up a hand, glittering with silver. “These,” she said, “are sensors, humm. Have you a coin?”

He took an old bit of shillings that he had saved and not yet exchanged. He held it out to the Necrontyr curiously as he took a moment to examine his medicine carefully.

“Okay, hide it in one of your hands, and don’t let me see,” she said.

Finn attempted to hide it carefully between his knuckles and looked over at Mariash and held them out, still hiding the coin.

She waved her hand over his, and tapped the hand with the coin, “That one, try again!”

He attempted to be more cunning and slipped it from one hand to the other carefully before holding both hands out and was attempting to see if he could slip it once she chose the right hand.

She waved her hand over his again, picking the right one again, “I can actually feel the metal,” she said, “so I’m cheating. I’d get it right a thousand times.”

“Clever, I had no idea your people could do that. Remind me not to bet against you then.” Finn laughed as he tucked the coin away and he nervously demonstrated his medicine. “Is this… also contaminated too?”

She took it in hand, running the same series of molecular imaging tests to determine its makeup. There appeared to be more than just opiates within the medicine, but also caffeine and addictive drugs which would also indicate that the boy was also unaware of this addiction as well, because the label surely didn’t include them. The label merely included the active ingredient of morphine, which was still odd to be given to a young child.

“What’s the matter?” Finn asked as he didn’t seem to like the woman’s expression.

“Who prescribed this?” she asked, seeming almost offended by it.

“Local doctor… went to the same one that another group of prostitutes have gone to. He gives medicine for cheapest, so no one gave it a second thought. I felt better when it worked, so… Is it poisoned?” He asked nervously as he had just taken one.

“It’s been made to be extremely addictive, it’ll kill you eventually, but it’s mostly there to keep you coming back.”

“I’m… going to die.” The boy seemed to be shocked by this revelation and his eyes widened and he hung his head before nervously laughing. “Great! One less trouble on my mind.”

“Only if you keep taking that crap, we’ll have to find something suitable to wean you off it, it’d only get you in your thirties or so...”

“I don’t want to take it anymore, I don’t think.” Finn said with a tired sigh. “Get me in my thirties? Huh, that shouldn’t be bad then. Thirty is old enough isn’t it?” He seemed to cringe inwardly as he set the medicine on the table and offered it to Mariash. “Where… can I get stuff that works… that won’t kill me so soon?”

“It shouldn’t kill you at all, I’ll see about it later, when you come over,” she said, “catch you later,” she added, attempting to make her way back to her breakfast. Finn looked over at Sherin knocked off his appetite and he attempted to finish his bacon, feeling that it was making him knocked off his balance altogether.

“You know, guys, this is not what I expected at all when I was going to come with you. I had expected to be tossed about and just eventually dumped somewhere in C’tan where I’d have to figure things out for myself… Somehow I’m becoming confused by why you guys are so nice to me. I’m… starting to think there’s something you guys want. If you need anything from me, you know, you can just ask me...”

“The only thing we want from you is for you to learn,” Sherin said.

“To learn what? I mean I’ve learned a few things about you guys, but I don’t know if it’s any good. Moreover, I’m confused by your motivation. You are a… confusing lot. It’s… strange.” Finn said. “Oh shit, I remembered… I was supposed to do something before heading off… I suppose it’s not a big deal if I don’t do it but…” He took his phone out and typed a message and wondered if he had signal in the area. “I was asked to send a message to a guy in the resistance somewhere, but I can’t do anything about it so I’m canceling the job.”

“Resistance?” Than asked, sounding very unenthused at this notion, as he looked at the boy from under his short black curls, “What resistance?”

“Hm? There’s a local resistance in every town I suspect. Opposition to the C’tan is becoming popular among disaffected Tor, you know... Have you not noticed it yet?” Finn asked with a chuckle. “Ara, I’ve got something you want, after all? They did kind of offer tasks for me once in a while.” Finn asked as he showed the C’tani the phone number he was dialing. “I don’t know if it is still active, but I haven’t sent the message just yet… you might find them if you plug this number in, but I can’t say it is a guarantee. Moreover, you look unhappy...I wasn’t planning to actually do anything with those guys you know. I have a will to live sometimes. One of those times is at least five minutes ago when the bacon wasn’t killing me. Argg…..” He said as he put his head on the table and groaned.

“Do you want a tablet for that?” Sherin asked.

“I don’t think it will hurt will it? So long as it isn’t more of the poison, I think I can take it.” The boy said as he clutched his stomach a bit looking over at the C’tani with a hand extended.

Sherin stood his non-uniform coveralls slightly scuffed, attachment points for armour visible across them, as he walked over to a cupboard, and took a small bottle out of one of the inside shelves on the door, and shook a pill from it, “Try this,” he said, the white lozenge printed with a necrontyr symbol.

Finn took the medicine in his hand and swallowed it dry, not sure if he was meant to do so, but also not caring too much. He looked over at the C’tani and seemed to calm down a bit as he set his food aside and cleared his throat.

“So, guys, when are we leaving?” Finn asked as he seemed to be eager to be out of the area. “I would imagine this job doesn’t let you go off the area too much.”

“A day or two, why?” the C’tani asked, “Possibly today.”

“I am like, counting the hours at this point to see when I can finally leave this blighted place.” Finn said with a nervous twitch. “I mean, it’s an emotions thing. Every bit of my reason tells me there is no possible way that anything will happen, and that I am safe in your company. There is no possible chance that I will even have so much as a single hair plucked by one of my masters, but my emotions are telling me: ‘Finn there are people who are trying to kill you as we speak, they are fantasizing different ways to brutally murder you’. If that makes any sense. I am afraid.”

“It does, yes,” he said, “But we’ll have to arrange for you to go and that might take some time,” he said, “Do you want to relax and lie down for a while?”

“S-Sure, but I was… didn’t you also not sleep last night? You must also be pretty tired…” Finn said as he looked over at Than concernedly.

“I’m fine,” he said, “I can be for quite some time without any ill effects,” he added, “But I have to go out and look at the prisoners, they won’t terrify themselves you know…”

Finn laughed jovially as he finally managed to calm himself down a little and he looked over at Than with admiration. “Well, if you’re going to go terrify some slavers and some other Alteans, I’m totally cool with that. I will try and lie down a bit, didn’t get any sleep last night.” He explained. “Let me know when you’re done for the day.” Finn said as he headed back to his room and flopped on his bed. As he rested Levanna seemed to be at ease with the idea that the boy was finally calm.

[Mystrian Altea]

“Hmm… I can see why one of the other prisoners would dread seeing you in the morning, but the boy seems to worry about you. Don’t you guys need sleep like normal people?” She asked as she prodded his shoulders a bit, and then she carefully checked if there were any knots.

“Humm? Of course, but I don’t - there are some harmless drugs one can use that rest the mind in sequence.”

“Uh oh… they’re not some sort of Treefolk make, are they?” She asked with a worried tone in her voice.

“No, not at all,” he said with a laugh, “Have you done this before?”

“Know a girl who used to work with me, got hooked on Treefolken Ether, and then ended up hopelessly addicted to the point where she overdosed herself.” Levanna said with a shudder.

“I mean the massage,” he said, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

She smiled as she carefully unknotted the muscles in his shoulders and nodded her head. “We’re women of entertainment, so massage is but one more way we can pleasure our customers, but you don’t have to worry, I’m not charging a dime.” She said playfully tussling his hair.

He laughed, standing up, “Duty calls, I’m afraid. Fancy coming and gloating from the gate?” he said, “we… don’t have much entertainment around here.”

“I can think of ways to make things entertaining.”Levanna said as she looked over to see what she could spot from the gate. She was not sure if the prisoners could see her, but she could certainly see them. The prisoners were mostly Tor, and of the wealthier class, with each one of them calling out complaining that they’d been wrongly apprehended.

“Hey guys!” Than called, past the guard post, “Visitor!”

“You’ve got to believe me, you’ve got the wrong guy! I didn’t kill that bitch.” One of the Prisoners shouted.

Than looked at him, smirking and shaking his head a little, “Anyone you know?”

“Let’s see. He looks familiar, but I won’t be able to tell until I see him naked.” Levanna said as she tilted her head, and she twirled a curly lock of her hair.

“I SWEAR! That bitch had absolutely nothing to do with me. I had no idea who she was, so I couldn’t have killed her!”

“Back in a moment,” Than said, stepping into a turnstyle, that unlocked, walking along through the gap between the two sets of wire, taking the baton from inside his jacket, flicking it out, to a formidable length, “You there!” he said, to the protesting pimp, “Over here!”

To the C’tani’s surprise the man was actually not a pimp, but he was apparently a wealthy baronet. He shouted out at the C’tani.

“Let me out! LET ME OUT OF HERE!” He shouted at Than.

He held the baton up, waving it at the fellow and then pointed over toward the mesh in front of Levanna.

Levanna wasn’t immediately sure what Than was doing as the Baronet attempted to reach for his prison bars and seemed to be mildly intimidated by Than’s movements, but not immediately aware that Than was threatening him. “Over Here!” he shouted.

“What’s your name?” Than asked, standing behind him two paces away.

“I’m Lord Darrett Garventide.” The Baronet said with his hands waving.

“Someone important?” he asked, looking at Levanna.

“Baronet, somewhere in Fynn, I think.” The woman said with a nod. “I probably have seen his cock before.”

“Get ‘em off, let the lady see!” Than declared.

Levanna was surprised to see the man stripped down and she nodded in confirmation. “Yep, I remember him. He was among the others that liked it pretty rough.”

“Oh he liked to receive a beating did he?” she teased.

“In a manner of speaking. He also liked to beat me as well. He was the rough tumbler.”

“That you, Darren?” Than asked.

“Lord Darrett.” He corrected. “And I have enjoyed the company of cheap whores like any other man.”

The blow was hard and fast, aimed just above the back of his knee, to knock his leg out from under him, accompanied by a shock that seemed to burrow in through the back of his knee and light his bones up. He let out a sharp cry before he was knocked to the ground, caressing his leg in pain, rocking it, attempting to make the feeling wear off.

“That’s Prisoner Darret, Sir to you.”

“Is your name, Darrett then?” He asked blankly. “As, I am not a ‘Sir’ I am a Lord.”

“You will address all persons as Sir or Ma’am, unless told otherwise, Darret!”

“Yes, Sir?” He asked as he looked afraid of Than and also confused.

“Why don’t you tell me all about your amorous adventures, Darret?”

“Because it is none of your business. Er… Sir.”

“What? None of my business? Everything is my business Darret! Out with it!”

“What do you want to know? How I used to fuck all the women I desired? I had money so I could do what I wanted with it. I didn’t mind getting a little bit of spanking if I could get a chance to punish the impudence of the lowborn a little.”

“Explain... what do you mean punish?”

“Depends on what I had, sometimes whips, chains, and some paddles and broken tools, it was fun and arousing, but this is something that I’m sure your people are familiar with. I did however not kill anyone.”

“Broken tools?” he asked.

“I had a rubber stick, a part of an old hammer that was broken off. This is just one example.”

“And what did you do with this... hammer?”

“Well, Men and women have orifices in which it can fit, as well as a good end that can be used for beatings. It’s not hard enough to crush people though, the hammer end is broken off. It’s the rubber handle.”

“What a fascinating fellow you are. Go on, get back to the others.”

“Other tools or other kinds of amorous encounters? As we could be at this all day. I am a very good lover.” He said with a nod of his head.

“I remember something a little different. He was a crier.” Levanna said with a shrug.

“Oh look, it’s the opinion of one of your ‘lovers’ who doesn’t have to lie to please you...” he said. “Go on, tell him all about how good he really is...” Than teased.

“He was pretty violent, he liked it when I pretended I was scared and unwilling and he also liked a bit of choking, and that was always a bit of a risk for me. I’ve seen some people get killed that way, so I always limited it.” Levanna said as she crossed her arms. “I also didn’t like the way you smell after a bout.”

“Smelly are you Darrett?” Than asked.

“I am not! I’m going to take this from a whore? She’s perpetually covered in the smell of hot ass, and people can piss on her and shit on her if they fancied.” He said offended.

“You want to get another crack, little man? I’ll give you a hot ass,” he said, stepping closer, “You will show respect to Levanna.”

“I’m sorry Sir, I am sorry Ma’am.” He said grudgingly. “What are you doing that you’re going over such useless impertinent questions? I’ve been locked up here for no reason. It’s racism I say! Racism!”

“Racism? Go on, sod off, get back to your friends,” Than said, “I’ve got work to do.”

“I didn’t kill that girl. I’m not a slaver! You’ve got the wrong guy!”

“Go! Away with you,” Than said, waving his baton like a cudgel.

“C’mon! You’ve got at least some decency!” He shouted as another guy shouted out to attempt to get the C’tani’s attention. “I got money waiting for you if you let me out!”

“How much money have you got?” the parole officer asked, looking at him.

“I got real Mithril silver, and of honest size.” He nodded. “Bars of the things in a secret place that only I know!”

“Oh good. You just earned yourself a ticket to… Guess where he’s going, Levanna!”

“He’s getting the stuffing beaten out of him so you can find out where he’s hiding the stuff?”

“Very clever young lady, our Levanna!” he said, prodding the man with the baton, not shocking him this time.

"Goddamn it all! I bet if I were no Tor you'd not pull this crap. There was no such cockery when the REAL Messandre on the Ruby Throne. ” The prisoner complained. “ Decay of honor and Altean values. Now even the best among us languish under This tyranny. ”

“You think it’s just Tor?” he said, and cast his eyes about for a non-Tor and non-Meilian prisoner.

“ Stop yer grousing , lad. Yer stuck with the rest 'O us. Ain't gittin' a free pass like yer used ter gittin'. Jus' git o'er it." The Nebbarathi man groaned in a low growl.

“You, ser are a criminal who ought to be hanged I'm sure. I, however am here by accident. ”

"Sure ye are." The Nebbarathi prisoner said sarcastically.

“You there!” Than said, “why are you here?” he asked the Nebbarathi, after taking the time to work out he wasn’t a Tor.

“Because I was clearly the most upstanding subject in his Majesty's good kingdom of honour and glory pip pip and so forth. ” he said with a nod before dropping his imitation of the rest of the prisoners. “ No, but more seriously though, I am here for murder. I am also as guilty as sin."

“Good man, well, I say good, I mean, not as bad, what did you forget, swine?” Than asked.

"What? Ye confuse me ser. Ye talkin' ta me?" The Nebbarathi prisoner asked. "Didn't fergit nothin, I think."

“Sir, address all guards as Sir,” he said, pronouncing the word slightly differently, “Okay, off you go. Leva, I’m off to go say hello to Finn’s friend, then he and his buddies need booking, see you and the kid at midday for lunch, if you’re around,” he said, noting to call on the kid shortly to take him for his shots.

“Sure, Than. I'll keep an eye on the kid. Let me know if ya need me, sweetheart. " Levanna said warmly as she headed comfortably away from the prisoners and back to her comfy room and she checked in on the kid. This left Than to to get to get a chance to properly antagonize the prisoners.

He didn’t immediately, instead going back out the way he’d come and to one of the administration buildings, only heading out to the box an hour later, taken aback slightly by the baked urine smell, he looked for the one that the pimp was in, a tungsten shame cube three foot high and only a little longer, thus not an actual cube, with a narrow slow on the door to see out of. He kicked the side of it, hard. “Wake up call for you!”

"Ugh... it's you again. What do you want?" The pimp spat annoyed.

“Ready to make use of the en-suite facilities?” he asked, rapping on the roof of the box.

"Am I to presume that there is is something worse than this damned thing?" The pimp asked horrified by the implications.

“No, you’ve got the wrong idea, let him out boys,” he said to Sherin and another guard, a tattooed black man with buzz-cut hair, the door opened, and one of them held out a hand to help the pimp up.

“You’ve got some powerful friends mister,” Than said.

"You bet your ass I do. I know tons... tons of powerful people and I can make things very uncomfortable for you. " the pimp said with a malicious grin.

“I’d love to know who it was who got my bosses to let you go, come on, you at least need hosing down before we turn you lose,” he said, attempting to look frustrated, leading the pimp toward a gate leading to the processing area.

"I'll pass. I have a lovely shower at my home with a better view than this dump. So I'm all for heading out without this nonsense. " The Pimp said with a nervous dismissive wave.

“Okay,” Than said, “whatever you say, sir,” he said as they passed through gates and walls, before arriving at a gate that looked on the countryside and farmland beyond, a black car pulled up nearby. “Prisoner for release here,” he said to a necron guard, “Supervisor Chalmers’ Orders.”

The inner gate opened.

The pimp headed toward the gate the as he attempted to step through it, feeling he was home free. He waited for one moment to see if there was any catch.

“One last thing,” Than said.

"I thought so. What do you want? Look, if you want something make it plain. " the pimp sighed in annoyance.

“You come after that boy when you’re out there, and I’m going to come after you myself,” Than said.

“I am not someone you need to worry about. He’s stepped on a lot of people’s toes. If someone kills him, I can swear it ain’t me.” The pimp said raising his hand. “Pimp’s honor. Swear by my best of cars. I won’t go after the boy, but I won’t give you much hope. He’s on a lot of people’s blacklists. I am pretty sure you’re taking on more than you can chew with this one.”

“Not so bad. I won’t beat you. Get him lads.”

Sherin and the other guard grabbed his arms, an armlock coming naturally as they seized the pimp.

“Hey now, what’re you doing? I thought I was being let go?” The pimp asked as he was confused by being roughly seized once more.

“You haven’t got any friends, or at least none that concern us, I just thought you might like the walk, back to the box with you,” Than said as they began to haul him back the way he’d come.

“Not a man of your word, I see. Well, I’m going to keep my own side of the flipping over bargain. I was going to be nice, and go to tell Artfour not to kill that kid, but since you’ve changed your mind, I won’t be able to call him off, too bad for you.” The Pimp said with a falsely sympathetic expression. “Pity, pity. You can’t put that one on me even, I have tragically failed to revoke the order.”

“You weren’t getting out, I can’t release you even if I want to. I can shoot you, but I can’t release you, isn’t that odd, so it’s no skin off my nose, you’re basically in your tomb already,” he laughed, as they headed back toward the row of tiny cube-like prisons, with their accompanying rich smell of faeces and urine.

The pimp flailed his hands angrily as he groaned in anger at his predicament and he attempted to keep from becoming even more unmotivated to leave this dump.

They opened the door, and shoved him down onto his knees, the darkness inside accompanied by the buzzing of flies from within. “You didn’t even get a drink or a shower, sucker,” Than said.

“Not worried about that, it would be a high pressure hose. I’m not fucking stupid. Have you ever been hit with one of those things?”

Than kicked him, “Down you get,” he said.

“You’ll be sorry.” The Pimp threatened.

“I’m sorry now,” Than said, “sorry I can’t spend all day dicking with you. Sherin...”

The burly Aligrethan punched the pimp in the kidney, an excruciating kind of pain accompanied the blow.

The Pimp shouted as he attempted to keep from crying, but his eyes were red as could be in his effort.

“Get in your box, and thank me for giving you a box shitbreath!” Than snapped.

The pimp entered the box wordlessly biting back his tears as he waited to be shut inside the box patiently as he took a deep breath and seethed in his bitterness and anger. Than held out his baton in front of the box, “I gave you a box. Why aren’t you thanking me? Don’t you like your box?” he asked.

“Who could ever like that goddamned thing?” He asked astonished by the question.

Than laughed and shut the door, locking it, “You’ll see tomorrow. You’ll miss it soon...” he said, and threw the key through the slot in the box, there was no way to reach the lock from the inside, and the key was not in fact the original, but a random key of the same general type; that didn’t open anything, but another way to wind the prisoner up. The pimp attempted to find a way to open the door and struggled with the key for what seemed to be hours.

After a few hours, naturally, someone came by to throw a bucket of cold water over the box, the water splashing through its open sides, before leaving him imprisoned once more. “Shower time!” Than’s voice called from the other direction.

“Uuuuf!” The pimp’s eyes opened, the wafting smell of waste, vomit, and feces still overpowered all other scents he had ever smelled before. He felt the cold water shock him into focus as he blinked to make out the shape of the C’tani. He shifted his position to see if he was still completely immobile and as he inhaled, the whiff of overpowering odor hit him like a sledgehammer. He gagged and retched and attempted to raise his hands defensively as he shook his head madly, like a dog trying to cast off fleas. But fruitless was this endeavor, for no matter if he could move or not, he was at the disposal of the C’tani who shouted and who hoisted the cold liquid in his direction.

At least, he thought, it doesn’t also taste as bad as I would imagine.

“Are you ready to thank me for your box yet?” the C’tani said, leaning on the box, then thinking better of it.

“Let me out of here, Goddamn it.” The pimp shouted as he tried to make words and pulled himself desperately away from the box.

“Now now, if you’re not even going to thank me for the box, you won’t be ready for the next box,” he said, laughing, “the one we’re going to bury you in!”

“Look man, I don’t know what you want from me, but thanking me for a shitty prison is not one of those things. Tell me why you are doing this, and maybe I’ll loosen my tongue. C’mon, man, have some sympathy, or… self interest. I can get you things.”

“Tell me about Arfour, let’s hear all about him.”

“Owns most of the debt in this here slodhole. If you want money to disappear, or need a quick amount fast and easy, you talk to him. But he’s in league with the crows, they say. Operate out of Antiva, and I can’t say I’ve ever heard anything good about ‘em neither.”

“You have his contact number, where he is, I assume,” he said.

“I do, and other things, I know where he keeps a couple cells of whores, and you can get them if you get me out of here.” The Pimp begged with his attempt to move desperately thrashing, attempting to will himself away from the mental image of the unmarked grave reserved for him.

“Yeah, I’ll be around for that information soon,” he said, walking away, “I’ll let you think about what happens if you lie to me while we wait.”

He waited and tried to see where Than was headed and he kept his eye trained upon him to ensure he would know the way out. The way to freedom was his only hope.

The C’tani returned as night drew near, with his two compatriots carrying a coffin between them, the empty wooden box resembling the seals of the C’tani nation, and with a similar icon on the lid, which they removed, setting the thing up before the pimp, before they reached over and undid the box he was already in, Javert opening it up, “Out you get.”

“Okay, okay, look… I know where there are a lot of Arfour’s whores and where their kids are stashed and shipped off to be trained by the Crows. Most of ‘em don’t have much promise so there’s no use in ‘em, not even as serving boys or women of pleasure, so we just toss ‘em off the side of the North East warehouse, by the old lighthouse, it is about two and a half miles off from the treeline on the coast. The Lighthouse is no longer in use.” The Pimp said with a shocked expression. “Some of the whores are kept in the building too for some time, but you need to get there before the sun sets.”

“And they are doing this tonight?” Than asked, looking at the sky.

“Yes, they are, and if you are quick you can get a whole shipment, and smugglers while you’re at it. C’mon, you must believe me. There’s nothing I could do to make this end worse for me, or better so why don’t you give me a chance?”

“Right, put him in lockup, we’ll call it in,” he said, taking a small device and pressing it to the back of his hand, speaking rapidly in necrontyr. As they threw him back in lockup he waited his for what he hoped was some sort of stay of execution, as he knew he was certainly correct about this information, as he and Arfour planned to trade some more prostitutes before the night’s end, but he had needed to collect some requisites from Levanna before he was to head to that meeting, because Arfour took nothing but fair cash for any deal.

[The Ctan]

The rain had started to weather the containers already, soft tidemarks of rust creeping in under the paint, giving them a sad kind of look under the wan field lights that had been set up under canvas awnings that kept the rain out of some areas. Firelight skipped and dappled off the canvas as smoke coiled upward from the barbeque the staff had set up, a metal container filled with coals that crackled with heat as it browned sausages on the grill. Celebren Cúnir stood beside it, now and then turning the food as it browned, or picking one off and whacking it into a brown baguette and passing it to one of his colleagues.

“I’m just saying we’d not have to be eating like this if someone’d ordered some microscarabs days ago in our supply run to get the ants out of the kitchen unit,” Saeli said, leaning on the back of the low brick wall they’d put up around the barbeque a few days ago, munching on the hot dogs.

“There’s always the Y-bars, if you’re that desperate,” Celebren said, kicking a hefty waterproof box of equally waterproof rations, the name was actually ‘Field Rations Multispecies, Emergency (Type A)’ real Y-bars were a similar Scolopendran invention, but the name had gone household long ago, from the popular joke that the name Y-bars stood for Why would anyone eat this?

“I don’t see why we can’t eat out,” Saeli added, leaning back against a sign with ‘Operational Security is Everyone’s Responsibility’ printed on it in bold font, before showing icons of common pass types in use and a reminder that ‘surprise inspections do not happen.’

“Why, hello,” Celebren said sarcastically, “yes is that ‘works for the enemy restaurant’ I’d like to book a table for twenty. Yes, C’tani Internal Security, Occupation Branch, two Cs in occupation, apostrophe in C’tani is after the C, no, C not a K, please do not arrange any explosions.’ He laughed and snapped open a beer bottle with the tongs, the elf upending it and chugging.

“Well, you’ve got to admit it was you that kept leaving the door open, anyway,” she said, pointing at the container kitchen, one of several of the long prefabricated buildings that made up their camp surrounded by heavy ferrocrete barriers, they stood in the courtyard of several habitation ‘tainers, and the essential services that went with it, and Saeli crossed her arms, to emphasise her point.

“I admit to nothing, except being the handsomest man in Altea, which I am,” he said.

“Nuts to that anyway, we’ll sort the little blighters out next week anyway,” Olan said, leaning on a tray table with a tub of warm sudsy water in it, in which half a dozen utensils had been thrown for washing later. “What I want to know is what happened with the guys who were supposed to be setting us up with soligram projectors.”

“Apparently they weren’t tech-controlled, so they couldn’t get them here without someone who shall remain nameless,” Celebren said, with a faux-cough, “Pam,” another cough, and a flip of one of the sausages, causing a steamy hiss of grease from the grill. “signing off, which naturally they won’t, because akasha knows if it’s not one of her foot products then she just is not interested in anything going on the maintenance budgets.”

“Ah, right, and we’re totally going to have to put up with watching the champions match in someone’s trailer again,” Saeli said, “screw that. I say we buy in some sort of local TV or projector and hook it up, it’d suck less.”

“Suck less?” Celebren said, “two dimensional with the picture quality of Mekreh’s graffiti, which is to say, about the same as a monkey’s anal waste daubed cage by the way,” he said, passing Mekreh a hot dog, earning a glower, “may as well start watching some goddamn foreign bullshit with eleven guys a side and no river play.”

The door to the office section of the camp opened, swinging back, and Úheren left, stepping lightly past the rainfall, “Everyone who’s field rated, strap your cocks on and get in the party vans,” she said, “we have work to do. And get yourselves undrunk in five minutes.”

A few minutes later, half a dozen heavily modified Developing Area Automobiles, hefty Allanean Arms designs, were crashing through the streets toward the North East Lighthouse in harbourwatch.

“Cúnir, you look ridiculous,” Serli said as she rolled a woolen cap onto her head.

“And you look... shut up,” Celebren added.

“No, seriously, black turtleneck sweaters and dark glasses at night, what’s with that, Numen’s Cock could you take these corners any faster?” she said, resisting the urge to vomit as the de-tox continued to work on the pair of them.

“It’s by the docks, do you know how many sailors wear turtlenecks?” the elf said, “Like, every single one of them, so shut up. And they’re tactical glasses, thank you very much, or don’t you want the alert feeds?”

“Just get a lace like everyone else.”

“And miss out on looking this hot? Piss off.”

“Right, new question,” she said, “can we get some inertial dampers put in these vans, because this is stupid,” Serli said, checking the holster under her jacket, “do we have to feel every single bump in this damn road?”

“Quiet, we’re reaching operations zone,” Úheren said, “Necron support on ninety second dwell time, scout missile cloud approaching, ready to disembark,” she said, watching the warehouse through her neural lace and the eyes of a dozen scout-missiles, robotic creatures the size and shape of small insects packed with electronics, focusing on what they saw, smelt and heard, with sensors that processed infra-red and sundry other exotic radiations.

The locals were as far as could be seen from the edge of the coast line, and the old lighthouse leaves a sullen mark on the horizon, left solemnly abandoned and ransacked numerous times. One could easily see that there was marks from a creature, and also see that there were new supply boxes and barrels along with enormous plastic and steel boxes. The various heat sensors would detect a large quantity of personnel on the base, and an even larger quantity of sapient cargo, hidden along with nonsapient cargo, their screams masked by the sounds of angry cries of exotic beasts smuggled out of the West and Northern lands. They were easy pickin’ as well as the humans from the tribes. No one kept tabs on them other than other tribesmen who met each other fairly rarely.

The chatter of the personnel was hardly masked at all, as the Alteans had no idea that anyone would have the sense to go to a derelict abandoned lighthouse, or rather, no one cared. The point was fairly clear that law enforcement was only mildly interested in keeping the area monitored, as the more populated areas were a greater concern for the Guard.

“You getting this?” Úheren asked internally, the communication going not to those in the SUV with her but to the operations coordination AI watching the same signals.

“Affirmative,” Cylanth replied, smoothly masculine tones coming through verbally, the unambiguous term following, “Letting bugs three to six close in, calling in additional military support, estimating three minutes to divert the nearest transport flight to a ready position, maybe ten minutes to full readiness.”

The bugs were small, black creatures, three approaching and entering the warehouse, while bug number six circled off to the lighthouse itself, seeking out cracks small enough for their millimeters long bodies to enter.

The bugs would smoothly saunter through cracks and glided through turbid smoky odorous smog, that seemed to give off the scent of crack cocaine, and three doses of Heroin drenched in Opium for sport.

“Okay, look in on this folks,” Cylanth asked into the earpieces or neural laces of the group, and Celebren brought up the image of one of the spy-flies’ compound eyes, treated and normalized, as an image on the inner surface of his glasses, watching as it cruised through the warehouse on an erratic course high above human reach, looking down, searching for prisoners and counting guards, necrontyr script appearing on the guards as they were catalogued.

A healthy bunch of the guards had a run-in with C’tani before, escaping convictions of foolishly obtuse charges in Altean books, such as walking backwards in public, and clearing out an alley dumpster on a Christian Friar. Naturally none of these charges were pursued because they were as innocuously written to give no impression of any real crime, but the further in one entered the compound the more heinous the list would get. Some of the rap sheets had even more absurd charges, but nothing worthy of accusation, but the more they began to check up on records and fact find, there would be more cues that the Altean police enforcement was about as shoddy as a wet tissue paper, allowing for most criminals to get away with about every crime on the books, but to the really serious of criminals they would add a charge, whatever charge it was gave a hint to the enforcer in the next province that the person was not one to be ignored, but not avidly pursued either. At the top of the criminal hierarchy of absurd charges there appeared to be indecent exposure, which seemed to commonly appear where there was a murder reported in the area, often blaming the weaker and more vulnerable populations to ensure that the real criminals weren’t provoked.

“Fuck me sideways that’s a lot of slavers,” Celebren said. “Are we looking to take the whole lot in?”

“Morgoth’s Teeth no,” Úheren said as they pulled over. “Cylanth, can you pick out the twenty five best prospects and tag the rest for shooting?”

“I love intelligence work,” Celebren said, “Hold up, I need a bigger gun,” he said, opening the trunk and pulling out a Kouralian MP-6 and fitting it with an oversized drum magazine, and various accessories.

“Anything interesting to report on this lot that you can see Cylanth?” the older elf asked.

There appeared to be several people of note, varied charges levied against them, but the more interesting ones were the charges that popped up on the various slaves, some were recognized prostitutes, and others guilty of indecent exposure. Various other charges like frightening children would also pop up on random various of the guards. The charges that appeared to have been dropped were accusations of sexual assault that were never pursued, and all suspicion would just evaporate, including witness testimonies.

“I need a few minutes to get sufficient angles to be able to confirm estimates of numbers and weapons,” the AI said quietly, bringing in four more spy flies, “Oh, did I mention they’re nuclear?”

“Nuclear, as in a nucleus?” Úheren asked, not familiar with the idiom.

“No, as in there’s what looks like a bunch of fission bombs in the lighthouse.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Celebren asked.

“I never joke about operational details,” he said, “Heavily guarded.”

“Right, time for a good look at reinforcements, how are those guys set up for gas in that tower?” Úheren asked, while Cúnir switched into one of the spy-flies looking over the abductees. The abductees were less guarded, with only one squad cycling in and out, often switching shifts with the three squads that covered the rear and northwest entry. The Southeast entry was also guarded with three constantly shifting squads.

The prisoners and human cargo were a mixed bunch, with various beastlings who were carefully broken into the forms that would please their prospective masters the most, but most of the beastlings appeared to be wearing Altean clothing, and had Altean accent, with a few others who appeared to speak no common at all. The humans in the bunch were mostly Nayali tribesmen and Qagleneki, those who would be unnoticed if they went missing or ended up in an alleyway or gutter dead. The odd men out were a few Imperial and Ayuru folk, and a lone pair of Treefolken, both with what appeared to look like control rods, which bound them to a specific tree, allowing them no room to go anywhere. The elves that were in the group had warm caramel to honey brown complexions with sweet peach colored eyes, and a few green eyed elves, with almond shaped eyes. There appeared to only be a lone pair of dwarven women. They did not appear to have much in terms of defense.

“Okay, we’re giving up on running anything on that lighthouse, and we’re holding here until the robo-squad can get their gear in position to deal with those nukes, keep an eye out though, if they start executing slaves then we have to move anyway.”

The slavers appeared to be none the wiser about the C’tani presence, because as far as they were concerned, keeping anyone in was more important than keeping anyone out from breaking in. This was alarming as there seemed to be still less attention to what was happening with the slaves as they were not given food until late in the night. They were carefully cleaned and kept in cages beyond the animal cages, some bound and gagged, one even blindfolded. There appeared to be a few who appeared to be covered entirely with various draped hooded garments.

The robo-squad was not in fact called that, a nickname that was intended to be somewhat ironic, consisting of the processing adjuncts of several non-sapient war machines with advanced heuristic capacities, operating under the supervision of one of the C’tani military construct intelligences, which gave them the task of removing the nuclear weapons, and then let them assign resources intelligently. The time taken to do this was short, the issue of the nuclear weapons slotting in near the top of the national task priority queue in the automated systems they used. Machines that were patterned upon great burrowing beasts long extinct were assigned to the task, capable of passing intangibly through the ground, and the water, which was of course, what they did, splashing into the water up the coast, half a dozen, then a dozen, of the great machines, the size of small trams, centipede like things undulating through the deep like archean sea creatures, until their glowing eyes could perceive the lighthouse above and ahead of them.

The Lighthouse was not brightly lit, though there were telltale signs that there were still people around, with some quiet muttering, but no one had yet spotted the robosquad, as the cry of the Spring Peeper frogs, which were quite loud in this season. This loud peeping combined with the warm chirps of crickets and cicadas drowned a lot of the sounds. The marshy waters were covered with duckweed with cattails pushing upward out of the water. There was a soft crack and a roll as a sinkhole in the distance snapped and then began to change the treeline with the enormous trees sinking underneath the marshy waters very quickly. This was perhaps the reason for the Lighthouse’s abandonment. The area seemed to have limestone in various areas making sinkholes fairly common, and they burst suddenly, and took with them parts of the forest around them. There was a telltale sign that there was also a part of road that had been taken by a sinkhole and had been submerged as well. The guards had no care or worry about the sinkholes, but perhaps it was because they knew the risks. The slaves on the other hand, were uneasy.

The machines themselves had no concern for that, as flexible antennae whipped under the water and they closed with the land, their mission was simple, and their reasoning capacities were confined within its parameters, ones that did not per se include self preservation. They swam through stone as if it were water, moving from the coast up into the solid rock below the lighthouse, avoiding basements and moving up to leap from the floor upon the offending explosive devices, grasping them in twisting coils of centipede-like form, filling the chamber to overflowing, unlike some more common necron constructs, each of the segments of a canoptek stalker, or their cousins, sentinels, which bore disruptive anti-mage devices upon their frames, was capable of independently becoming solid or insubstantial, and they did so to fit in the confined space, setting to work defusing and decapitating devices and men respectively. To their fortune the anti-mage devices weren’t needed at all, as there were no magi counted among their number. They did however sustain a resistance to magical attacks, which did them no service as it was quite obvious that the devices were nonmagic in nature.

The great noise garnered quite a lot of commotion, as it was clear that there was no sinkhole that had burst, and taken the stockpile. They were clearly under attack, but by what it was, they had no idea. The armed guards headed toward the building which was being pillaged for their stockpile of weapons. This was a serious breach as those weren’t merely weapons, but a stockpile of prohibited weapons that had been given to them by another criminal organization which had procured them through Freestian arms dealers in the criminal underground. They had managed to smuggle them safely thus far, and it would be a terrible waste to lose them now. The guards engaged what they saw to be enormous robot centipedes with small arms fire, before realizing how fruitless their efforts were. The others who were in the surveillance section reported that there was a disturbance in K Zone, and that the Glitterdust had been compromised. Any and all personnel were to secure goods and abandon the area to meet at point Alpha. Those who had not immediately been mowed down began to retreat into the woody mangrove underbrushes, some of them taking with them various goods with them, but all of them were highly illegal.

It was of course, the atomic weapons that were the immediate concern, and why the canoptek sentinels had been dispatched; they were the last work of the infamous artificer Tolokh the Blinded, perhaps the most famous roboticist and engineer in the Great Civilization, before the Great Sleep, and equipped with a tool other than their protections against magecraft, which was immensely useful for sabotage or for counter-explosive work. There was no sound or light as they operated, the areas before their ravening maws simply vanished as the creatures opened fire at the nuclear weapons, casting them through strange dimensions where life did not exist, on a trajectory far from Gaia’s location; in principle things and persons that were attacked by the Exile Cannon were not destroyed, and might even reappear, somewhere at random in the cosmos; though the chances of arriving anywhere they could do damage, as opposed to the vastness of space or inside a star or planet, were beyond improbable.

This was of course, not the only thing that happened at the same time, and the C’tani on the ground attacked a moment later, Celebren and his group among them, a mix of the wet-fabric-ripping sound of gauss weapons and the staccato bark of Kouralian and other firearms as they closed in, heralded by a swarm of drones, far larger than the reconnaissance ones, deployed to hunt and kill the guards who had been categorized as expendable.

With not even a sound there was a quiet puff as the gauss weapons deatomized the guardsmen who refused to lay arms aside and who were still on the attack. The ruckus did not, however escape the others who had taken to the next part of the escape, which entailed fleeing and clearing the area as quickly as they could. The guards nearest to the slaves unholstered his weapon and prepared to clear out the liabilities so they wouldn’t have trouble later, and he would simply need to force the imprinted beastmen to keep their silence on the operations.

As he drew his weapon he prepared to shoot at the slaves who had the ability to reveal any information on their operations or the locations of major hubs.

It would likely be a mystery to him how the necrons outside had known, or made the shot, the surveillance bugs relayed the images from within the warehouse to the necrons, and one of them nearest dropped to one knee, gyroscopically stabilized weapon raised, from her perspective, the image of the inside of the warehouse overlaid on its outside, as if it were a cutaway drawing, while the gauss flayers typically operated to obliterate every part of a man, there were many other things they could do, adjusting with machine-speed to their exact targets, and the shot she fired toward the ringleader of the guards was aimed across his wrists and arms, a pencil-wide core of function, the same ‘flaying’ effect along a narrow line going through one wall, through the man’s limbs, and out the far side of the building, frantic care taken to try and avoid the hostages.

The hostages were unharmed and the slavers and the various guards, the one who had been gaussed screamed in agony as the other guards watched on in horror. One of the guards fell to his knees, eyes widened and cold sweat broke on his forehead. His face was as pale as a sheet, which was an accomplishment, as he was a darker skinned man, and there were others among him who also shared the terrified expressions, one of the guards pissed himself in utter terror as he fled away from the gauss wielding monsters.

Celbren, still wearing the tactical feed glasses, shouted toward the group as they approached, “Throw down your weapons and come out with your hands up! Those of you that still have hands!”

The fact that he mentioned ‘those who had hands’ was fairly telling, because there was screaming from a distance away and as if on cue there was a severed arm which flew through the room, and landed in a pile of cloth used to soften confines of the slave’s cells, the blood had scattered, and spray all over the guards. The ones who were smart enough to realize they were in over their head dropped their weapons. They then took care to try and put their hands on their head as they lay on the ground, knees apart and hit the ground as fast as the arm had made the sickening clunk to the ground.

“Right,” Celbren said, looking around as they entered, “I am disappointed in all of you,” he said, with a sigh, “Sarli, can you believe these guys?”

“No I can not,” she said .”Look at that guy, bleeding over everything.”

“Yeah, quit bleeding,” the elf said, aiming at the injured man.

The man who was bleeding screamed in agony, as the others shuddered and one of the less than wise guards let out a loud, “ Fuck this!” before he got up from the ground and began to run, away from Celbren, not even paying attention to whether the door was open or not, which it wasn’t. He slammed into the closed door and then knocked himself out cold, and as he fell, he landed on another guard.

“GERROF ME, YA FAT LUMP!” The guard shouted as he tried to shove the other guy off him, but failed so pathetically he merely struggled and flailed under the man’s weight. The other guards watched a man flee past the door, and he was quickly impaled by one of the broken off poles which was not even being weilded by a necron, but was a result of cracking rock beneath him. The watery marsh was now murky with red clouded smokiness from the blood.

The elf looked over at the running man, as he managed to injure himself, and shrugged, bringing the firearm up to his shoulder fully, squeezing the trigger as he hosed the injured man with bullets, whether he intended it as a mercy killing, or just meant to kill the man, was uncertain.

“Resume mission profile,” Úheren said, the white haired elf woman stepping into the room, and looking at the guards who’d already surrendered, aiming without firing for his leg, “What happened to ‘disable and move on?’” she asked, disappointed.

“We’re not allowed to shoot them when they’ve surrendered,” Celbren said, “sadly.”

“Wouldn’t have been a problem if you’d not got them to surrender.”

“Oh yeah, just storm in and get shot, nice planning there Úheren,” he added, covering the guards,

“We need to speed this up,” Serli said.

“My planning is fine,” she said, “Okay, you lot, go find yourselves a cell, get up, quickly.”

A necron entered a moment later, the massive thing more than twice the size of any of the security agents, eight feet or more in height, and broad enough that its shoulders clipped the door on either side.

“Now, if any of you want to take your chances at running, be assured we really do want to shoot you,” Úheren said.

“I for one didn’t want to be out doing things in this damn swamp,” Serli said, “So if you make any trouble...”

Celbren waved at the first man who’d made a run for it, outside, as he stood back from the guards, expecting them to find a slave cell to put themselves in.

The guards did not immediately know what the gesture meant, and stared confused at Celbren as if they had been deer staring down the headlights of an eighteen wheeler. There were others who stared at the necron and some of them visibly shrinked away and cringed at the appearance of the creature. The slaves were still in the cells, unaware that anything had happened yet, as there was no way to see what was going on, but there certainly strange sounds they could hear.

“What’s going on out there?” One of the women, an elven slave cried out toward the tiny grate in the door. “Hello?”

“Evening,” Celbren said, looking down for a moment, “keep calm and we’ll be out of here in no time,” he said, not actually explaining anything.

The elven woman on the other side of the door was slender of waist, but voluptuous with an hourglass shaped figure, but more endowed in the bust. She had big soft green almond shaped eyes with long lashes, and a beauty mark upon her high cheekbones. Her face was round, giving her a younger appearance, and her hair was shoulder length, and full bodied, a deep chestnut brown hue with gentle waves. It was braided into a circlet of waterfall braids which connected at her back, and her shoulders were bare, as she wore a keyhole halter top dress which scarcely reached mid thigh and dropped dramatically baring the small of her back. Celbren appreciated the style of the dress, though he wasn’t too impressed with the actual workmanship, he rarely was, regarding anything produced outside the Great Civilization and a few elder cultures as ultimately a sort of quaint peasant dress, still, she got a second look; not his type, per se, and beauty marks were quite out of fashion to his eyes, though he’d seen the concept before.

“Tell everyone through there to get ready to leave,” Serli said, “We’re here from the security services.”

“We’re locked in the cells, ser. I don’t think we could get ready even if you told us to. Is there something going on? Where is the other guard? There seems to be some sort of commotion out there, and I’m a bit worried, I confess.” she said with a frown.

“I mean get anything you might have, stand back from the doors,” she said, “We’ll be down in a moment.

Meanwhile, the others began prompting the guards more urgently to get across the room to open up the cells.

The guards opened the cells, and switched places with the prisoners and the slave who was bound, blinded, and gagged wasn’t moved. The guard did however enter the same cell that the slave sat in with much Chagrin.

“What’s up with him?” Úheren asked, suspecting some sort of gorgon.

“He’s some sort of monster.” The elven woman said with a worried glare at the door. “Best if we leave it here.”

“Can’t be that bad a monster, if he’s caught, you and you,” Celbren said to one of the guards, “Get him up, you’re coming with us, lucky day,” the elf said.

The guards seemed to be cringing as they approached Celbren. “What do you want us to do?”

“Pick him up and carry him, and be careful about it!” He pointed with his support hand, along the barrel of the gun, toward the bound man.

“He’s dangerous though, I don’t want to be near that thing.” The guard said protesting. “Get someone else to do it!” The guard said with a frown. “I hate fighting ring slaves, always dangerous and less than animals, they are.”

“If you don’t do it, I will shoot you,” Celbren said, “make your mind up,” he said, putting the gun’s stubby barrel, which looked a little undersized in his hand, to the man’s face, an inch away.

“What is that, a pea shooter?” The guard said laughing at the miniature gun, realizing there was less of a threat than he imagined.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Celbren shot him, without hesitation or delay, in the face. “Next, you,” he said, pointing out another guard as they stood in the doorway of the cell. The man’s face practically melted off, with the bullet shattering the man’s skull and leaving his brains splattered upon the floor as the others watched in horror. The other guard, seeing the fate that awaited refusal grabbed the bound creature and hoisted him over his shoulder.

“Come on, you too,” he said, pointing at the third guard, “Help out or get shot. I’m not asking for volunteers here.”

“Right, what do you want me to do, he’s got the thing, I’ll come along but tell me what to do,” The guard said horrified by the pool of blood that still dribbled from the corpse in front of him.

“Grab the guy’s feet and follow us,” he said, stepping out of the cell, waiting for the pair to step out, and holding the door.

He grabbed the creature’s feet awkwardly and followed the strange group of C’tani and seemed to be displeased at the prospect of having to be around them.

“Right, let’s go.” He said as he followed them toward the door, leading them out to the cargo area where there were boxes with bright stickers on them.

Celbren paused by the door to the cell with the slavers in it, and threw a water bottle through into the far corner, “Grenade!” he shouted, before slamming the door on them, just to wind them up, before turning back to the others, and the slaves, “Right, everyone keep close together and follow Serli,” he said, as more necrons seemed to be waiting outside, and they walked toward the loading door.

There appeared to be various slaves of differing appearance. Some were human, others beastlings, and then some elves. Pointedly, there appeared to be no dwarves, nor were there seaborn folk, which made it fairly easy to move the slaves around. The composition ranged from an even mix of genders, but there were more of them who appeared to be below the age of 17 in appearance, some of them barely able to toddle their way out

Celbren made a point of looking for the girl he’d spoken to before, nodding to her as he prodded the rearmost of the two guards along to make them step a little livelier, unluckily for the bound man, “You guys missing anyone?”

“Not that I can see no, not in this wing, we’re all here at the moment.” The elven woman answered. “There may be others in the other wings, but I cannot vouch for them, as these are all the people I’ve seen over time.”

“Okay, what’s your name?” he asked, pausing at the door, Úheren pausing with them while the other security agents waited.

“Idhrenil is my name. I am the daughter of Roderick.” the woman said with a raised eyebrow. “Well… not quite a daughter, but I have had to adopt such a style. My father’s name was Edwenor, but upon abolition I was adopted by my master, and then sent to boarding school. That’s what I have been told, at least.”

“I see, aren’t you a little old for adoption?” he asked, “How old are you, fifty,” he said, quite obliviously, “Hundred ten?”

“A bit older, yes. But that’s not strange. A lot of us were adopted by our masters to keep us in the home and not have us discarded out into the world like meaner folk. We aren’t the fighting type, nor do we have the will to have to go through the struggles of being a freeman or a freewoman. At least on my part. So my master adopted me, and nothing has changed. I still stay and work by my master’s side unless I need more finishing, which is why I go to boarding school to be finished properly.”

“And yet you’re here,” he said, wondering if she was entranced in some way, “You realize this isn’t a boarding school, right?” he asked.

“Looks like one, it has a comfy bed doesn’t it? And they teach us things that help us do better at our work, it’s not like there’s much else we do here, at least until we get to the big school. Need to be careful, y’know. They said we could get beaten or eaten by giant monsters or giant robots here now. Don’t know why they’d want to eat me, I’m too skinny.” She said as she leaned toward Celbren.

“Hey, you look a little odd.. what are you? Your accent’s funny and you don’t seem to have…” She looked him over for a moment, attempting to see what she saw was off. “Huh, yer wearin’ weird blood cologne. That is creepy, you know! Might end up with the fetishists! Not like they need less people like you.”

He was briefly confused, looking at her and wondering if she had in fact some kind of mental problem, rather than entrancement, “Err, I just shot a man, that’s probably what you mean,” he said, “You know, the ones that were about to shoot you?”

“They didn’t look like they were going to shoot me, ‘least not from where I stood. But it’s not like those things do much. They just give you a whallop, they say, and then your mind goes empty. They say it don’t hurt, and that it barely leaves much mess. See they did that when we got too heavy last time. Had too much load, needed to lose some load, and the other things were far too valuable to toss over.”

“Yeah, okay,” he said, “See these necrons?” he said, as they stepped out past the group, “Follow them and you’ll all be taken to safety,” he said, “We need to get the others.”

“What’s a necron?” The elven woman asked as she looked over at the giant necron and blankly stared for a moment. She didn’t seem to understand what was happening. “This is… what is it?”

“Hello,” the necron said, waving a hand at her, “this way please.”

"Ohh! They talk! Uhm, andaran atish’an... you look like a strange tall looking durgen’len. What are you?" She asked as she looked over at the necron, startling a little before the others seemed to step behind her.

“None of you have heard of necrons?” Celbren asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, is it a form of Necromancy, only with necron being some sort of blood magic idols? I can’t say I’ve heard of necrons before. Though, I’m surprised, I didn’t know these big table looking things can speak. They’ve always been quiet when I saw them once before.” She said raising her eyebrow. “At least I think they were quiet, or… I think they were tables… may have been pipes too. They were shiny like these.”

“Right, we probably need to send someone with you,” Úheren said, “Celbren, you’ve made a friend, babysit,” she said, as she and the others moved on, and a group of necrons went with her, to search the other wings.

“Right,” Celbren said, with bitter annoyance, “This way, Idhrenil.”

“Which way… hm? What’s wrong Lethallin?” The elven woman asked Celbren. “You seem unhappy. Are you worried about classes? They are not so hard! I can teach you all sorts of things that will make it very easy for you, especially if they decided to reassign your sex.” She said with a tilt of her head. “That would make it really easy for me to help you.”

“I am not Lethallin,” he said, the concept not particularly troubling him, “I am Celbren, better known as Celebren Cúnir nos Círdan, of the C’tan Empire.”

“Hm? Your name is weird, and it’s really really hard to pronounce… it’s also… are you really an elf?” The elven woman asked. “You talk like a shemlen.” She added as she tried to pronounce his name. “Selebren, we’ll head toward the school from here then?”

“What’s a shemlen?” he asked, raising his eyebrow in bemusement, as gunfire started up again in the distance, along with the sizzling-rip of gauss weapons.

“People like the others. Quick Ones, the ones who are quick to live, quick to die, and who also have wide faces, wide ears, and wide bodies. Look really odd for me, but that’s how most shem are.”

“Orcs? Troglodytes, Ents? Be more specific! Elephants?” he said, confused by the description.

“What are orcs, troglodytes, ents and elephants?” The elven woman asked with a raised eyebrow. Are they some race of shemlen?”

“I don’t know, you tell me what a shemlen is!” he said, as the necrons led the group toward a pyramid-like machine, and he looked at the others, “Anyone, help?”

“I think she means Altean…” One of the beastlings answered.

“Man-kin.” a Treefolken boy said, “Of the Mannish race.”

“Ah, why does she think I talk like an Altean?” he asked the Treefolken boy, as he seemed to make the most sense.

“You have a mannish manner and mannish ways. There’s also the strange accent you have, it is more similar to man than to the elves I have met, many of them do not use hard sounds like you do. ‘K’ sound is rare. Your language has a lot of clicking, and popping.” The Treefolken child said. “It’s weird to her.”

“It does not, there are languages that use far more clicks and pops,” he said, sounding bemused, perhaps with a wider base of languages to draw on, for he imagined khoisan and similar languages when thinking of ‘pops’ in speech.

“Hm? Well yes, but I see it happen more among shemlen than our people, at least I think you are one of our people. What is your clan? You said something about Seerdan?” The elven woman said as the little treefolken boy looked over at Celbren.

“Kuh-tan, The Great Civilization of, the people who invaded Altea and keep the king of Altea in chains, you have heard of the invasion no doubt?”

“What invasion?” The treefolken boy asked with a raised eyebrow. “I am not sure what you mean.”

“Of Altea, this country you’re in?”

“We are in Altea? That’s much farther than I thought we are. That’s really interesting.” The treefolken boy said with a nod of his head.

“Of course we’re in Altea, I was picked up from Lord Roderick’s home to be taken to Finishing school from here.”

“You were not going to finishing school, he sold you to slavers,” Celbren said, looking forward to having words with this Lord Roderick already.

“He did? Why would he do something like that? I had myself a few things that Lord Roderick knows only I can do. It would be weird.” The girl said in disbelief. “So… I am not going to Tevinter am I?”

“Where is Tevinter? Never heard of it,” the elf said, as they arrived at the monolith, and he pressed his hand to its green metal surface, a door sliding up to reveal the portal within. “We’re going elsewhere.”

“Where shall we go Lethallin?” The elven woman asked as she tilted her head and took a deep breath to calm her mind as she had no idea she had been inadvertently sold to slavers without her knowing.

“Far away, to safety,” he said, “Step through here,” he said, as the necrons halted, “Actually, you two first,” he said to the guards with their bound passenger, “Go on through,” he said, the opaque rippling green portal standing ahead of them.

The guards stepped through the portal and they seemed to be uneasy with going first through the passage at all.

“Now everyone else,” he said, looking at the others, wondering if there would be any protests; not a time to mention that they would be going to another world entirely, he thought.

“Alright, let us go then.” The treefolken boy said as he pattered along slowly on the ground, his short legs getting him to the portal a little bit at a time. “Where is this safe place we go to?”

“The C’tan Empire, far from here,” he said, “The Irishal Valley, A hotel, basically.”

“Is it a bright place?” The little treefolken boy asked as he plodded about following several steps behind before the elven woman picked him up and he looked up at her with mournful soulful eyes.

“What ha… Oh, I am lifted.” The boy said as he looked over at Celbren. “Thank you ser, I knew well we were going to nowhere pleasant, but I thought we would go to the land of the dead, rather than to slaver dens.”

“Please, I must remain, step through,” he said.

“Very well, let’s go!” The woman said as she guided the others to the Irishal Valley hotel ahead, but as she did Celbren was left behind, unhindered by the group of slaves.

He turned and joined the necrons as they advanced again, looking up at the lighthouse now swarming inside and out with metallic bugs as they spread out from it, hunting for other atomic weapons, seeking to search the warehouses. The C’tani found just about everything of note, right down to the illegally smuggled walnuts in the pocket of a dead guardsman. There were various things which proved to be startling. There were illegal weapons, there were smuggled animals, plants, and there were various cargo which seemed to be a supply of what would appear to be illegal and controlled chemicals for pharmaceuticals and labs. Even a small rat stowaway had been caught by a necron, which was an invasive species. The rat was a greenish hue and seemed to resist the grasp of the incredibly scrupulous C’tani coalition. On the top floor of the lighthouse there seemed to be a man sitting at a comms base and he raised his hands as soon as the C’tani managed to reach his floor.

“Don’t shoot! I’ll come quietly!” He shouted.

The huge mechanical centipede with its multi-eyed head stuck through the wall passed the signal of the man’s words on up the chain of command and was given a decision shortly after, to capture him, without any articulate means of speaking however, it did what came naturally, and pounced him, wrapping up around him like a centipede with its prey, actually being quite delicate, with its many many legs.

“AAAGH!!” What reaction he had was quite surprised and he seemed to flail until he was pinned on the ground. “GET IT OFF ME! GET IT OFF ME!”

It didn’t get off him, and no one came to get it off him, as it pinned him in a cage made out of its many legs, forcipules waving and antennae twitching as it propped itself up and held him against a wall.

“What the fuck is this? WHAT THE FUCK! SOMEONE GET IT OFF ME!” the comms officer screamed in horror as he struggled against the centipede.

Celbren stepped into the room, Úheren and the others with him, “Hi,” he said, “You wanted to surrender? Well, stay put where you are, and our bug buddy here will keep you nice and safe.”

“W-What do you want from me?” The man asked with a shudder of his lower lip. “I have nothing I can give you. I’m not part of the operation, I am just a technician who set up the communications and security cameras and interface here. Nothing else, I didn’t do anything. Let me go!” The man cried as he tried to keep away from the terrifying robot.

“Are your tax records up to date?” the elf asked.

“Which ones? To my Lord or to His Excellency, or to His Grace, or to His Majesty?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. “I pay my taxes like any Imperial Citizen should.”

“We’ll see!” he said, “Now, where’s the boss?” he asked.

“My boss is currently heading to point alpha, heading to the middle of an old swamp, and it’s just north of here, fed by the Alverostej River, and there will be an old log that seems out of place, knock it, it’ll sound like hollow metal, and then take the way northeast to a moss covered tidal cave.”

Celbren frowned, jabbing the Kouralian gun at the guy, “If you are lying, I’m going to shoot your foot off...” he said, tilting his head to the side, “Be more specific, where is this log, what does it look like?” he asked.

“IT’S THE ONLY GORRAM LOG IN THE AREA, DAMN YOUR EYES. THERE’S NO PARTICULAR LOOK TO THE LOG, IT’S A BLEEDING LOG! WHAT ELSE CAN A LOG LOOK LIKE IF NOT A LOG?” The man asked with a horrified expression.

Cylanth’s voice came in his ear, a C’tani linguistic joke that had gotten so old so many years ago that it was fossilized now, “Spy-flies have it,” he said. “Get down here.”

Celbren grinned, “Lucky guy, enjoy your mechno-bug,” he said, heading back out of the light-house to join the rest of his team in the Allanean vehicle, submachine gun held on one arm as he stuck his head out of the sun-roof, with about the same level of regard for his personal safety as might be expected, holding the fore-grip as they bounced down the side of the river, wheels spinning in the mud but seeming to avoid catching in it. The Allaneans might be busy trying to turn Gaia into Necromunda, but no one could say they didn’t make a decently rugged vehicle. The hi-beams bounced as they headed along the riverbank. He ducked into the car for a moment, hanging on and punching a button, blasting a Deeproot classic Orc Raiders on the vehicle’s speakers, before resuming his position, nodding his head and flicking the tac-light on the weapon onto high power. “I love this job.”