Lowe and Arebella found themselves in a massive room, at least half as big again as the one in which Gianna d'Avec had been discovered. In the centre of the chamber was a single, colossal throne made entirely of bone, on which sat the Speaker of Yolgorth.

Lowe knew - everyone knew - that the Speaker had been a in his pre-evolved state. But knowing and seeing were two different things. Countless scars crisscrossed the avatar's weathered face, souvenirs from battles long past, yet his nose, absurdly, was as straight and pristine as a prince's, as if it had never seen the wrong end of a fist.

Most of the rest of Mdamic's face was covered by a tangled mass of hair: shaggy eyebrows, sprouting tufts from ears and nostrils and a beard cascading down his chest like a waterfall of iron-grey brambles. It was so unruly that it pretty much obscured the ceremonial dress he wore—robes that seemed to fit him as naturally as a bear in a tutu. The rich, deep purple fabric was embroidered with holy symbols and runes depicting Yolgorth in its various forms, which must have been quite the contrast to the coarse furs and rough leathers of his former life.

Despite the incongruity, Lowe thought he wore them with an air of begrudging dignity, like a wolf forced into a collar but still very much a wolf. He took a little half-step to put himself in front of Areblla.

"Come. Come," Mdamic beckoned to them.

As they drew closer, they both were very aware that the Speaker's massive frame dwarfed the macabre seat where he sat, which was audibly creaking under his weight.

Lowe couldn't help but notice that his hands were basically heavily calloused shovels. Each finger was adorned with rings of gold and bone, their designs clashing in a riot of barbaric splendour and ecclesiastical authority. This was a man who was used to hitting things and having the reasonable expectation that those things stayed hit. That he had also been granted the power to rain thunderbolts from the sky caused Lowe, not for the first time, to reflect that life really was not especially fair or kind.

The whole vibe in the greeting chamber would have been insanely intimidating if Mdamic was not currently sucking on a comically large, pink-striped lollipop.

"So, the Convention of Bugs, eh?" Mdamic's voice was only slightly muffled by the confectionary he was licking. "You have my assistant's knickers in quite the bunch."

Arebella made to answer, but the Speaker held up a finger. "No harm, no foul. I will enjoy unbunching them for her shortly." He gave a little giggle, which, when given context by his words, the room, his size and the lollipop, made Lowe determine the two of them were not going to be best friends.

"But -" the temperature in the room dropped through the floor as storm clouds covered the entire ceiling -"that is your one and only free pass. Should this audience displease me for a moment, should you lie to me, should you prevaricate, should I merely grow bored, then . . . "

A lightning bolt crashed down and struck the floor to Lowe's left. It left a little scorch mark in the tile, which - by the look of hundreds of fellow marks the length and breadth of the room - was not an uncommon occurrence. "Well, you will not be able to say you were not warned."

Satisfied he had been sufficiently clear, Mdamic sat back and gesticulated with his lollipop in a 'get the fuck on with it' gesture.

Lowe took a moment to reconsider the advisability of his plan: they were hazarding an awful lot on this play. While confronting the Speaker of Yolgorth in his own receiving chamber was a solid plan in theory, the reality of standing in front of the avatar was a deal. He had just enough time to experience a brief sinking feeling of dread before his mouth decided to take over. This, in his experience, rarely led to ideal outcomes.

"It looks as if you tried to have me killed."

Mdamic raised a bushy eyebrow. "I have to tell you, that seems spectacularly unlikely. You are, after all, still alive."

"You altered the rota to remove my protection detail and then sent four to murder me in my home."

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

"Doesn't sound like me. I'm not known for my administrative capabilities. Rotas and suchlike hold little interest. Likewise, if you think I need to use others to do my smiting, then you really do not know very much about me at all. But I assume you have evidence to back up your outrageous assertion? My signature on a requisition form, for example?"

"You used another avatar's name on the paperwork. I have to say, I am disappointed to learn that identity fraud is still a thing, even at your level. I would expect a better class of fraud."

Arebella's breath caught as a torrent of lightning strikes exploded around them. Lowe held the Speaker's gaze throughout the storm, mainly because he was sure if he broke eye contact, he'd run.

"If you've quite finished? Not for nothing, but if you're going to try to pull off this sort of thing, I'd suggest you consider some sort of disguise. Cuckoo House had a series of very clear visuals of a rangy motherfucker with one eye, a spear and a giant thundercloud above his head, filing the appropriate paperwork. Maybe a hat next time? Honestly, it almost looks to me like you were hoping to be seen."

When he popped into Security Service HQ earlier, Cenorth explicitly did not give Lowe permission to view that particular file. Still, coincidentally, he had needed the toilet almost immediately after opening the recording stone on his desk and loudly forbidding Lowe to view it. He'd even knocked politely when coming back in to make absolutely sure Lowe wasn't looking at it.

Mdamic shrugged. "So? You think there's anyone who is going to care about what happens to some no-mark investigator without a Class?"

Arebella stepped forward. "Not at all, Speaker. You are, after all, quite within your rights to smite whoever you wish. While you occupy this floor, the Mayor is clear that there is no oversight that either Cuckoo House or the Tower of Law has over you or your actions. No, we are happy to leave such checks and balances to Arkola."

At the mention of the dweller of the First Floor, Mdamic glanced upwards and shuffled uneasily. "Quite right. It is not for you to question my motives. I am empowered to enact Yolgorth's will. So why are you here?"

"There have been suggestions that the recent death of Gianna d'Avec might have been at your hands."

"Have there?" Mdamic's voice had become dangerously low.

Arebella did her best not to shiver as the temperature continued to plummet. Instead, she attempted a little careless shrug. "You know what rumour is like, sir. From what I have heard, the High Priestess was all but measuring this room for curtains. That must have been rather humiliating. To drop down to the Third Floor after all this time? But that wouldn't be the end of it, would it? Whenever this has happened before, the displaced avatar did not just drop one place. The other gods scent blood and descend like vultures. It's a long and quick descent to the basement, is it not?"

"I rise and fall at Yolgorth's will."

Lowe decided he wasn't going to let Arebella have all the fun. "And if Yolgorth had wanted Gravalk's avatar to have an unfortunate accident, you would have acted?"

Mdamic moved his one-eyed gaze from Lowe to Arebella and then back to Lowe. Neither of them could quite shake the impression he was range-finding. However, when he finally spoke, his voice had transformed. Gone was the hectoring, belligerent sneer. In its place was something far more wry.

"What Yolgorth wants, Yolgorth gets. I can assure you that if I had been instructed to kill d'Avec, I would not have been able to rest whilst she still lived. I am comfortable to share with you that I received no such order."

"Yolgorth did not want her dead?" Arebella asked

Mdamic laughed humourlessly. "Yolgorth wants everyone dead, my dear. It's kind of his thing. However, in the specific rather than the general, there was no particular animosity to the Fire Demon's avatar. I had thought my, and Yolgorth's, impending drop down the Temple's floors would have been displeasing to my god. However - " he paused, as if considering his words, before shrugging and continuing - "Yolgorth rather enjoys the thrill of the chase, as it were. My god finds stasis boring. To tell the truth, I have sensed more pleasure emanating down our link at the prospect of hacking a bloody path back up the Temple than I have since reaching the Second Floor."

Arebella glanced at Lowe and then stepped forward again. "My client believes that you sent those men - extremely low Level grunts for someone of your reach - to ensure he kept looking into Gianna d'Avec's murder."

Mdamic didn't answer.

"That the attack was meant to fail and that your intention was to provoke him to continue, with greater focus, in his investigation."

Mdamic still didn't answer.

Lowe took over. "To be clear, I am working under the assumption that when I take things to the next step and bring matters to a close, I am not going to be making you into my enemy. That you actually do what this case solved. But you know what they say. Assumption is the mother of all fuck-ups. So here we are. Two beings standing in front of an avatar, politely checking that he doesn't want to kill them."

Lightning crashed down from the ceiling. Arebella and Lowe both closed their eyes, but crucially, they were not reduced to cinders.

The Speaker of Yolgorth laughed, a long, booming noise which was peculiarly unsettling.

"I have nothing more to say to either of you."

The door behind them opened and Szana was there, tapping her foot on the floor in a gesture of profound impatience. They were just exiting when Mdamic's voice echoed around the chamber once more.

"Yolgorth is looking forward to what happens next."

Lowe couldn't help but feel that statement could be taken any number of ways.