Skritch. Skritch... Skritch.

"My lord, we made inquiries with Lord Gary." Savillette spoke, legs crossed comfortably in one of the visitor chairs. "His response was short, but conclusive... Attacks against a member of the Gray family will be punished."

Skritch. Skritch.

"It seems Kafalan still cares about his wayward daughter." The Acolyte commented.

"What did he say... exactly." Crecius asked, pen scratching across a cluttered page.

The Acolyte flipped through pages in his note book, quickly finding the right one. "His exact words were. 'She's a Gray. No violence." He recited.

"No violence, ehh..." Crecius smiled. "Well, there's plenty of other ways to hurt someone."

"Indeed." Davros agreed, drawing a frown from his superior.

Insolence.

Crecius filed the comment away with the others. He was constantly weighing and measuring the Acolyte, trying to gage his loyalty.

They'd worked together for over a decade and Crecious still couldn't trust the man. For all his biting comments, his work was beyond reproach, unassailable. But that was the problem. The man was too competent. Crecius knew for a fact that he'd had a half dozen offers from Lords with far better prospects. Why would the bastard choose him. It didn't make sense.

"What about this, Kint Archaedis?" Crecius asked, "What do have on him?"

Davros' lips drew to a line, an uncommon display of emotion from the man.

"Very little, actually." He admitted. "He lives in the Government Quarter with his daughter, who's in her fifth year of schooling. They've been in the 13th for about over 5 years, and before that... nothing."

Crecius stopped sketching, giving Davros a questioning look. "Nothing?"

"Nothing." He repeated. "All we have is his transfer order, sealed by the church."

"The church?" Crecius questions, confused. "Who?"

"We don't know." Savillette shrugged. He sifted through his notebook, removing a folded parchment a handing it over. "But it was someone high up."

Crecius unfolded the missive, revealing a transfer order with a Sceptor's seal on it. "But who?" He asked again.

"We don't know." The Acolyte repeated. "None of my contacts have even heard of this 'Kint Archaedis' before."

Lord Crecius grimaced, loosening his jaw to stop his teeth from grinding. He did not like mysteries. Especially not in his District. It made him feel exposed. A man with such secrets that a Sceptor would vouch for him? Living in his district? It seemed impossible.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"Sh'Gile." The Lord called, prompting the hulking Acolyte to step out of the shadow of the night darkened room.

"Yes, My Lord." His deep voice rumbled, head bowed.

"Did you know about this... this Kint?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I did not, My Lord."

"And why did you suggest them? This pair?"

"They've little ambition, and much to lose. As you requested, sir." He replied, eyes still on the floor in deference.

"Do you still believe in them, Acolyte?" Crecius asked, "Can they complete the Black Seal?"

"I've no doubt, sir." He responded. "I've confirmed it this very night."

"Good." The Lord smiled. Comforted the answers, he began sketching again.

He liked Acolyte Sh'Gile. Having such a brutish figure around was always useful, but more than that, the man was effective. He'd been executing ever since Crecius pulled him out of irrelevancy. And best of all, he could be trusted. He'd been as low as a Blessed one could go. He understood how much he had to lose.

"You know." Crecius started. "If they don't succeed. I can always put you back where I found you."

"Of--of course. My Lord." The Acolyte stumbled, skulking back to his shadowy corner.

The Lord smiled. He did trust the man, but there was nothing wrong with a well placed reminder.

"I've also confirmed with our sources at HQ, that the investigation is all but over." Acolyte Savillette mentioned, reading from his notebook.

Another point for the brute. Crecius smiled. He drew an X through his current diagram, grabbing a blank sheaf of paper.

Skritch Skritch... Scritch scritch. He began again.

"And the Lab?" He asked, not looking up.

"The Lab is another matter, unfortunatly." Davros Sighed. "The Growth of both the Outer and Inner Core's continues to Accelerate. The Outer core encompassing much of the 11th Inkhold District, as well as our own."

"What are the affects?"

Skritch Skritch... Slide...

"Minimal effects. As far as we can tell. Bad dreams, seems to be the main one." The bald man noted. "Although..." He closed his booklet, cocking his head to one side. "I suspect I suspect the poor sleep is contributing to local unrest."

Skritch skritch... Sliide.

Crecius ground his teeth. Too many problems... too many variables.

"What about the Inner core?"

"We have no way of knowing it's effects, sir." Davros shrugged. "No one we've sent in has ever come out."

"Can we contain it?" The Lord asked.

Davros sighed. Giving him a pitying look.

"My Lord."

Skritch. Skritch.

"I think it's time we discussed liquidating Lab 13." He pleaded. "We are running short of time. and--"

Skritch skritch... Slide Slide.

"The Duchess is set to arrive in three da--"

Skritch skrtich. SNAP!

"Fucking Cunt!" Crecius shouted, the tip of his pen breaking under the pressure of his strokes. "Four days! Four days out, we notice her. She moves like a ghost. The bitch."

Acolyte Savillette folded his hands over his notebook. Unfazed by the outburst.

Lord Crecius took several deep breaths, his blood pressure descending.

"Try to contain it as best you can the next two days, but begin preparations to liquidate." He sighed, "If we can't make any progress by then... torch it."

"Of course, My Lord." The Acolyte nodded.

"See to it." Crecius ordered, waving the man way.

He let out another heavy sigh as the door slid closed behind the Acolyte. His shoulders slumped as he stared at the nonsense he'd been scratching at on his desk.

He crumpled the paper tossing it to the waste bin beside his desk. It was a simple thing really. A trinket for Lord Kort-Tine. He would get no where with it tonight.

He frowned, leaning back in his chair. He stared at the battle of black and purple swirls raging across his walls. Taking control of his Well, he siphoned power from the Magical walls. The swirls stopped. Neither purple nor black had the edge. Another stalemate.

He ground his teeth.

He was so close.

For fifteen years he'd struggled to hold this District together, to see it prosper. Fifteen years he'd sought to rise, reach past this post. Never faltering, never ascending either. But he was close now. The breakthrough he needed was right at his fingertips. He just needed to hold it together. Just a few more days.