Varga trickled ley inward, focusing on his breathing as Aon had taught him, forcing himself to ignore Randi’s lifeless body. The pressure in his skull began to ease, though its grip still lingered, like a slowly loosening vice.

“Now,” Balrik said, pacing before them, “We have little time, so I will ask you a simple yes or no question. Answer it truthfully and do not fight the potion’s effects. Are any of you working against my interests outside our little operation?“

Balrik stopped in front of Varga.

“You.”

Pressure swelled behind Varga’s eyes, making them bulge, as if they might burst from his face if he dared to lie.

Instead of succumbing to Balrik’s insidious alchemy, Varga channeled ley into his heart, lungs, and mind, letting the tension ebb before answering.

“No.”

The steadiness of his voice surprised him. Balrik lingered, eyes narrowing, disbelief flickering across his face as if weighing the truth behind Varga’s words.

“You,” Balrik said, suddenly pointing at Renzo at the other end of the table.

“N-n-no, sir,” Renzo answered, sweating freely.

Balrik nodded with a satisfied look before turning his attention to Obi.

“How about you?”

“N-n-no. I-I-I would n-n-never,” Obi stammered.

“And what of you, Abdo?”

“N-n-no. I-I-I s-s-swear I w-w-would never,” Abdo replied.

“Which leaves us with my loyal companion, Levi,” Balrik said, turning his attention to the large Tazen.

The large Tazen looked directly at Balrik, opening his mouth to speak.

Levi’s jaw clenched, teeth grinding as though he was chewing through bark. His fingers dug into the table, knuckles white as if he were wrestling to control a raging beast.

Balrik watched the spectacle, folding his arms across his chest.

His head snapped back and forth, eyes wild with the terror of an individual no longer fully in control of their body.

At last, the trembling ceased. Levi’s voice, when it came, was barely a whisper of defeat.

“Y-y-yes. I am w-w-working against you.”

Levi’s eyes, still wild, now held the look of a cornered beast, desperate to flee. Without hesitation, he sprang from his seat in a frantic attempt to reach the door.

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In one fluid motion, Varga leapt from his seat, sword flashing free from its sheath.

Levi moved with surprising agility, ducking past a guard and crashing through the weathered door with a lowered shoulder. Varga was right on his heels.

Varga sprinted down the stairs, ducking just in time as Levi’s wild swing with a thick stick nearly caught him.

Levi, armed with a stick, squared up to take Varga out so he could escape. As soon as Varga recovered from the initial attack, Levi reared back and unleashed a two-handed swing, attempting to take Varga’s head off his shoulders.

Varga tucked into a roll, narrowly dodging the swing. As he sprang to his feet, Levi had already shifted into a defensive stance, backpedaling to create distance.

“I was just padding the rent a little, skimming a few ducats off the top. That’s not enough to die over,” Levi pleaded.

Regret flickered in Varga’s chest. He liked Levi, but he couldn’t forget that, for the right amount of ducats, Levi would likely kill him. This was too good an opportunity—maybe his only one—to let sentiment cloud his judgment.

“When you betrayed Balrik, you betrayed all of us,” Varga shouted, feeling a bit ridiculous, but it was necessary to drown out Levi’s desperate pleas before Balrik could hear them.

“What are you talking about? I was just—” Levi’s words were cut short as Varga lunged, his dueling sword striking like a serpent.

Varga had to admit, Levi was quick, fending off the first few strikes with nothing more than a stick. But his luck ran out, and Varga’s blade found his thigh.

Varga knew if he let up in his assault, Balrik would demand to take Levi alive, so he pressed on. It seemed as if Levi had already given up because his sword found its mark repeatedly.

Finally, Varga jammed his sword almost to the hilt in Levi’s chest, making him scream with the gurgling sound of blood in his throat.

Levi fell backward, and the weight of his thick body wretched Varga’s dueling sword from his hand.

Varga watched blood well up under the body of the dark-skinned Tazen he had grown fond of over his time trapped in this nightmare.

“Sorry, Levi,” Varga whispered. Levi smiled as they made eye contact before Varga could form a response, the light of life left Levi’s eyes.

Varga allowed Levi’s body to fall to the ground as he heard the boots of Balrik and his bodyguards descending the steps of the dyer’s shack. The smile made sense now. Levi preferred a clean, quick death by the sword than to endure whatever twisted tortures Balrik would have used to extract information from him.

“What in the seven hells did you do, Varga?” Balrik snapped, approaching Varga.

“I needed him alive.”

“Why? You found the rat in your crew, what else did you need?” Varga retorted. He knew he was living dangerously talking back to Balrik, but he was nearing the end of his patience, and perhaps, his sanity.

Balrik stared at him coldly and the situation became so awkward, the bodyguards cleared their weapons in case Balrik was ready to strike.

After a few moments, Balrik made a gesture and the bodyguards stood down, sheathing their weapons.

“As brilliant as the concoction you drank is, it has two limitations. I can only invoke answers to yes or no questions, and the effects wear off quickly,” Balrik explained, his gaze fixed on Varga.

“I asked a general question to flush out those betraying me, but who they were working with, and what their plans were, are just as important.”

“I went after Levi, even though you treated me like a traitor. I did what had to be done,” Varga said through gritted teeth.

“I suppose you did,” Balrik replied, his tone cryptic, eyes flickering between Varga and Levi’s corpse.

“I’m not pleased with the result, but it will have to do. Let’s move forward and refocus on what’s ahead.”

“Can we still pull it off, even down two members?” Varga asked.

“Of course. That just means bigger shares for the rest of us,” Balrik said, walking away with a low cackle.