The halls echoed with the occasional growls, howls, and roars of trapped beasts. Their cries of loneliness and rage did not perturb the Beastmaster, however. He was accustomed to their calls. Understood what they meant as well as any man would understand another. He was the Beastmaster, and seemingly half-beast himself when one considered his skills and appearance.

The Beastmaster Nalmet gazed into the mirror in his office, first glancing at the assortment of books and decor and then at his own features. Though his face was clean shaven, his hair well kempt, he resembled a man only when clothed, body hidden beneath the robes he often wore. Underneath their fabric was a jungle of hair from every part of his body, from arms to legs to chest.

Nalmet kept the mirror to remind himself at all times of what he was. Human though he felt, his body was not quite as certain.

He turned at the knock, the large door to his office opening before he could speak. Rude as the action was, Nalmet knew better than to question an Artif.

“Ah, this is unexpected. What can I do for you, Liard?” The common pleasantries, though he’d like to say some things more coarse. From the looks of Artif Liard, he shared the sentiment.

“It’s about the beast.”

“Which one, might I ask?” He knew full well which one he meant, but it was fun to be difficult.

“The manbeast. You know the one.”

“Ah, the Khor. Yes, of course. I was going to go see it today, as a matter of fact. Would you like to come along? It’s surely awoken by now.”

“There’s no need for that. I’m here on Radmel’s behalf. The beast, could you train it?” Nalmet looked at the Artif, unsure about what expression to make, and instead licked his lips in thought.

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“If you mean to tame the beast, I would recommend against it.”

“And why is that?” A stupid question. An Artif of all people should know.

“The Khor are not like other beasts, lord Artif. Their size is exceptional, and their body is half-man. That is not to even to mention their rarity. I know of no man who as laid eyes on one until recently, and few texts describe them.”

“So it’s too much for you? Is that what you’re saying, Beastmaster?” There was emphasis on his title, no doubt meant to cut him. And maybe it would have, if Nalmet were not so confident. He was the best, and even the best could do little when faced with the impossible.

“I cannot deny the accusation, lord Artif. This is very much unprecedented. I am doubtful there is a man who could outdo me, but even I am at a loss for ideas.” Nalmet sighed and tapped at the wooden desk. Though he had remarked at his doubtfulness, even Artif Liard was aware of Nalmet’s reputation, his eyes glancing down in slight dejection.

The beast was strong, no doubt, but could it listen to commands? Could it be broken? “A question, if I may. What is it, exactly, that the High Artif would like me to do with the beast?” Liard looked up, a small sigh escaping him.

“He wants a war animal, something big and strong that can cut through a few dozen men and clear a way to the enemy’s commander.” Hah! A war animal! If only new ground could be covered so easily.

“I can look after the beast, do what I can. But I’ll need resources.”

“You’ll have them.”

“I’ll need men. Assistants, soldiers, people to transport the creature and to keep it confined and at bay.”

“All yours, to do with as you please.”

“And I’ll need a new location. The beastyard is too small for this endeavor. The beast will need open space, area to live and fight in.”

“What of the arena? Would that be acceptable?” Large area, indeed, and made for combat. Exceptional, with the exception of the fool who ran it.

“Could Bertold be convinced?”

“Oh, he’ll be convinced, alright. He has no room to refuse.”