“Um,” started Rhode. “Listen, Your Grace, you’ve got to understand –”

“That is enough. We are satisfied with your answers.”

Rhode shuffled on his feet, surprised by the sense of exhaustion and nausea he was feeling.

“Our judgment is as follows. The Constable Fidelity Brand will be remanded for questioning along with his page in order to confirm your story, and a temporary stay will be placed on the execution of civilian participants in the riots.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Rhode asked. His thoughts moved sluggishly.

“One of Our servants will draw up an appropriate point system by which you may purchase the amnesty of the accused. The price per head will be adjusted as per the severity of their crime. The details will be delivered to your chambers for your review.”

Nothing about the room had changed. Rhode spun about on his heel, but he was still alone with the Prince. His stomach fluttered. “You’re just going to forgive them?” the Hero doubted. He clutched at his head and massaged his temple.

“As long as you fulfill your end of the bargain. You may spare a significant number from the fullness of their punishment. Yes.”

“Sorry, what? Your Grace… do I get to know what the bargain was?” Rhode asked. The [Brawn Homunculus] stepped closer towards the dividing veil, and his voice lowered.

“Goodeman Irving, you have made the attempt to threaten Our person already. This was taken into consideration during our negotiations.”

“I wouldn’t have done that.”

“It was valuable for Us to understand the limits to which you could be pushed.”

“Your Grace, I wouldn’t have done that,” Rhode protested.

“Depending on your conduct, certain limited and supervised contact with the Hero Goodeman Santos may be approved in the future.”

Reeling, the homunculus paled at the change in topic. “Whoa, whoa. No. I mean, not no, but did I ask for that?”

“Goodeman Irving, Our time is valuable. If these terms are unacceptable, then you may simply take your leave tomorrow, as discussed.”

“Goddamn, slow down,” Rhode broke. He reached out to the wall, and crunched the decorative paper paneling as he leaned his weight against the solid surface behind it. He was hyperventilating, and it took long seconds before [Bellows] settled back under control.

“Sorry Your Grace, but if you’ll just remind me. When you say ‘take my leave’…?”

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“We are titled to a significant number of properties throughout the Kingdom. We would provide a secluded location, with ample acreage for your permanent use. You would retire there in perpetuity, under limited supervision.”

Rhode stared at the curtain, and at the bed beyond it. Supposedly, a prince was there. Assumedly, he was unwell. Supposedly. Assumedly. The homunculus was slowly coming to understand the shape of the danger he was in, even if he had already been snared long ago. Every word he spoke gave away too much. Everything he might ask for risked being bargained away for a pittance of what it was worth in exchange.

He didn’t have blurry memories, he had amputations.

“Your Grace,” Rhode asked deliberately, “what would be the reason that a person would refuse an offer like that?”

“Because it is within Our lawful authority to hang a great many goblins tomorrow, and you believe that they deserve Our pity. Furthermore, because We reserve the only access you will ever have to speak amongst your own kind.”

“And if that isn’t enough?”

“Goodeman Irving, if we were to set but ten men on the gallows tomorrow morning, it is Our belief that you would submit utterly to defer their end.”

“Your Grace,” Rhode considered. But he couldn’t find a single way to end the sentence safely. His hands clenched into fists. His teeth ground together. Destructive and reckless thoughts filled his head.

But before his feeling of helplessness could boil into something worse, the Prince spoke again.

“Stop. Are you out of your mind?”

Rhode blinked. He stared at the Prince, confused. The veil had been drawn back, because of course it had been. The homunculus looked down at the foot of the luxurious, sprawling bed and at the otherworldly creature beneath him.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t be so close to you, right?” Rhode murmured.

The Prince’s hair hung down loose. His skin was corpse pale, and everything else about him was black as pitch. His eyes shook with fury, and fragments of shredded paper peeled down along the walls. The silk arrangements overhead were collapsing, severed at key points and leaving gemstones hanging like fruit.

Rhode stepped backwards, one controlled motion at a time. “Sorry,” he murmured again. “It’s just that something about that seems like a bad deal, you know?”

“Yes. Truly, it seems that your heart goes out to the base and unfortunate,” snarled the Prince. He pressed a hand up to his nose, and a smear of true red came away along his lip.

Wait –

Rhode’s head spun. His headache was growing worse. He looked up at the hanging veil which obscured and separated him from the Prince of the realm, and listened to the measured and calm voice which emerged from the other side. The room was lit by a pile of silk and crystal, lying bundled on the floor in a lump. The walls were bare, and painted a solid sky blue.

”Would you like to know the real reason why We summoned you, Goodman Irving?”

He had to think about it. He knew he didn’t like the answer. “To fight a war, Your Grace.”

“But this is an insufficient answer, Goodeman Irving. Surely, you would understand that the method by which we have produced you and your peers is an extreme one.”

Rhode nodded. That made sense. “It was awful,” he whispered.

And –

“… [Forget] that last thought. Rhode, I am inches from erasing your mind. So pay attention. I am trying to save my people.”

The Hero wavered on his feet and then sat down cross legged on the floor with a thump.

“Good. Yes. That makes sense to you, doesn’t it?”

The homumculus nodded, somewhat stupidly.

“Then we will build from there.”