—Professor Mason—

“I don’t exactly have a choice, do I.”

Mason gave the young man — Victor — a wry smile. Up until this point, the Professor had been all professional — tight lipped smiles, clasped hands, perfect posture, the works. But by this point, they had gotten through the necessary formalities. He could allow a little candor to shine through.

But not too much. If this were to work, he needed Victor’s trust. Trust meant a degree of openness and honesty. But he could just as easily go too far that way — revealing more than was actually necessary. If Victor betrayed the Professor’s interests, that would turn from unnecessity to risk. Risk was unacceptable.

Of course, the young man wouldn’t be particularly hard to kill.

On the other hand, that would still reflect poorly on Mason, and who knew how much damage the slippery thief could cause in the meantime. He had eluded even Lord Grantly, after all. Slipped right out from under his nose.

For now.

Shaking his hand in a so-so sort of gesture, Mason considered precisely how to address the young man’s question. The question wasn’t literal, obviously. It was more of a statement, and the Professor could simply confirm it while simultaneously placating Victor’s surface level fears.

However, the Professor understood that there were all kinds of other questions buried in subtext. Perhaps it would do him well to address just a few.

“Your service is completely voluntary. The empire will not coerce you into a position from which you would be forced to take actions which are against your own will.”

Victor furrowed his eyebrows slightly. Mason didn’t think his words had been particularly subtle, but then again, a street rat wasn’t likely to be nearly so accustomed to the language of higher circles.

“But if I don’t accept the position, I’m pretty much fucked,” Victor said.

The Professor remained perfectly neutral. Had they not already been over this? “Your personal circumstances are not the Empire’s concern in this context,” Mason reiterated.

Victor chewed his lip, then seemed about to speak again. Mason suppressed the urge to groan. Is he really going to state the obvious out loud? As Mason suppressed even those thoughts of irritation, the young man fell silent, nodding. It seemed clear that Victor understood. He had no real choice but to take the Professor’s offer, but the responsibility would be completely his own. Fortunately, he had the tact not to say that. Good. He’s learning. Maybe he won’t be terrible at this.

That would certainly be nice, if it came to pass. If Victor kept up like he had so far, perhaps he could even be a real officer one day. If he survives his first week in the Blackguard, that is.

Victor groaned, holding his head in his hands. Mason’s smile almost faltered, but didn’t, of course. Well, maybe not. The young man was still wearing nothing but a towel and his crude cloak. “I accept.”

The Professor brightened his smile. “That’s great to hear. However, I am just the messenger.” He paused as he stood up, and the young man cautiously rose to his feet as well. “I will escort you from here.”

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—Arthur—

“Oh Great Emperor, Champion of Humanity, Vessel of Divinity, Hand of Creation, Supreme Arbiter of Justice, what meager scraps of wisdom do you wish to claim from this wicked and lowly necromancer, slave of evil, blinded by ignorance—”

“Shut up.”

Arthur fell silent, indulging in a little peak at the young Emperor from where he pitifully groveled upon the ruby encrusted onyx dais. The young man was glowering down at him, trying quite hard to maintain his aura of regal dignity. Of course, the corners of his mouth twitched just slightly, hinting at a tightly contained boyish smile.

“And quit the groveling. I’m not so proud as to be blind to your obvious mockery, old man.”

With a sigh, the Lich rose to his full height, easily towering above his young master. “You’re no fun.”

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The Emperor rolled his emerald eyes. “It is not my mandate to be fun, old man.”

Arthur huffed. It said a lot that the Emperor didn’t make any effort to conceal such an immature gesture. A little about the young man, but mostly about the Lich. Was he losing his touch? It didn’t seem quite so long ago that he had struck fear into the hearts of the most seasoned warriors, and here this little upstart sovereign wasn’t quite rising to his bait.

For shame!

“Right. So really, why did you summon me? Do you want me to go take care of Lord Grantly or something? I’ve been itching for a good showdown… you know, the hero types are fun but they’re all the same. Fighting other villains can be quite refreshing.” Arthur paused. “I like his mannerisms.”

The necromancer’s current master stared at him blankly. “No. You’re not strong enough.”

Arthur blinked. “What.”

Sighing, the Emperor turned his back and strode towards the balcony at the rear of the chamber. Arthur followed, trailing just behind and to the side of the young man. There were no guards — a boy like Magnus Vistani had no need for such frivolities. Filling the throne room with guards would be more of a liability than anything.

“I’ll grant that you might be able to take him one on one,” the Emperor admitted, “but not without unacceptable collateral.”

Arthur frowned. “You’re worried about the citizenry? That’s a change.”

“Not casualties, you moron, collateral.” Magnus glared at the Lich. “To me.”

Arthur inclined his head slightly. “Ah.”

Striding forward, the young Emperor appraised his city. “I need you to keep things under control.” Arthur joined him, squinting into the hazy midmorning glare. Magnus furrowed his brow as he stared into the distance. “Surely you’ve learned you can’t just murder you way out of everything by now.”

The necromancer shrugged. “Maybe?”

“Anyway. I need you to make sure that the kid doesn’t just…” for once, Magnus fumbled with his words. “Straight up die? We can’t have that. There’s no guarantee the fragment will bond so readily again.”

“Right. You want the murderous lich to make sure someone doesn’t die,” Arthur surmised. “No problem boss.”

His young master snorted derisively. “Have you no concern for your own son?”

Arthur shrugged. “A passing interest.” He shrugged. “I mean, are you not the one who assassinated his own father?”

Magnus scoffed as he turned back to the throne room. “Touche.”

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—Jackie—

“Again.”

Jackie eyed Lord Grantly as she adjusted her grip on her knives. As far as she was aware, the man wasn’t even using any ability of his focus — not during the fight, at least. And yet she had yet to land a single scratch on him, and he wasn’t even sweating under his ridiculous suit.

She was allowed to use her new focus of course, but it didn’t matter. Her captor was just too good. She had gained power — on his behalf — for sure, but it didn’t matter. Lord Grantly was just more skilled.

Flicking her eyes to the side, she caught James’ look. You’ve got this, his eyes tried to say, but it was a lie. She absolutely didn’t, and her brother knew it.

Jackie idly wondered what had happened to her older two siblings. Had Lord Grantly captured them as well? Were they dead? In hiding? She didn’t know, and she brushed those thoughts aside. Now was not the time.

Lord Grantly sighed. “I said again.”

Channeling her anger, Jackie dashed forward. Leaping over the card table in the middle of the empty casino, she vaulted through the air. As she spun, she aimed one knife for her captor’s throat while loosening her grip on the other.

At the last moment, she threw the second knife. Her aim was true, but her target wasn’t static. He caught the knife, and before she could call it back to her inventory, she was already impaled through the eye. He grabbed her other wrist. And then the knife twisted.

Jackie’s mind turned black.

And then she was back on the other side of the table, a pale golden light suffusing her.

“Again.”

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He joined an organized crime ring, stole a legendary Focus from a psychopathic lunatic, completed an arguably successful dungeon delve, and now he had joined a shadow organization of the empire he hadn’t even known existed.

Victor flopped onto his new bed with all the grace of a tottering drunkard. At least the Blackguard had been kind enough to provide him with new living arrangements. Chloe as well, though hers were ostensibly provided by Professor Mason.

She wasn’t allowed to know about the Blackguard.

And while it hurt, Victor didn’t break his oath and explain it all to her. Not because he trusted them more than his sister. No, not at all. He just hoped that what she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.

Who would have expected that they didn’t kill all the monsters, they just leashed them?

Not Victor, that was for sure. Perhaps that just made him naive.

It didn’t matter, not at the moment. All that mattered was that Chloe and Thomas were — temporarily — safe, and that he now had a real shot at saving Ezra, Jackie, and James. If they’re still alive.

While Victor didn’t fully understand all of the powers at play yet, he now recognized that the Empire was strained, poised to be devoured by one of any number of factions. The Emperor himself was just one of them.

Like it or not, Victor was part of that faction now.

After resting for several moments, Victor sat up. He desperately needed a shower. But first… He summoned his book. Flipping to a random page near the middle, Victor traced his finger down the central fold. I have several questions.

Ink swirled.

Hello Victor.

Victor grinned back at the entity that was now somehow inextricably linked to his own soul.

He had been thrown into a den of monsters, yes. But he had a power of his own, an opportunity to fight back. He remembered back to just several days ago, when he first entered the casino with Lord Harvey.

I’m not going to waste it.

The Empire was full of monsters.

Victor would be one of them.