Sentinel was an ancient city that had weathered many sieges, catastrophies, calamities, and assorted crises that had led to great sections of it being destroyed or washed away with the passage of time. Thus, beneath the streets that people strode about in their daily lives, stretched a network of underground catacombs, sewers and ruins.

For the most part, these were only accessible to people who had intricate knowledge of the city's layout. And the Brotherhood of the Dagger had had many years to map out and exploit this network of ruins to their advantage.

As far as hideouts went, it was far from glamorous. But it got the job done.

"He told me, outright, that he was a mimic. I don't know how or why a mimic was as smart as a human, or pretending to be one, but that's what he said." Leona paced around what passed for her room, a dusty stone chamber lit solely by an oil lantern in the corner.

Askyr sat in her chair, watching her in silence. He hadn't moved since she started recounting her tale to him, quiet as the grave while she rambled on and on. His thin lips were pulled into a line, and the more she spoke the more concerned he became.

"A mimic with human intelligence?" he eventually murmured. "How would such a creature come to be?"

"I don't know. And I... I frankly don't care. All I know is, that he needs to die. It's... I've never had an opponent who pushed me this far."

Askyr had gotten a healer her as soon as she came dragging a near catatonic Valle Irons in with her one working arm. And while her bones and bruises had been swiftly mended, her mind had never stopped racing since she came back. She loved a good fight, but she loved winning more. And to be brought so close to death, seeing that monstrous power for only a heartbeat...

That mimic could grow incredibly dangerous if he wasn't dealt with soon. A major roadblock to Asky's plans and ambitions.

"A talking mimic, wearing the skin of a human, who happened to be the apprentice to Elijah DiVenture," Askyr murmured, slowly stroking at his chin.

Leona halted mid-step, giving her mentor a glare. "You don't believe me, do you?" she asked, irritably.

He held a hand up to silence her. "It's not that. It's... a lot to take in. But from what our informants have gathered, it was a real violent scene at Valle's factory. Clearly you had a hard fight out that way."

"I killed plenty of mimics in the wild. They're dangerous, sure, but they're also predictable. That one though..." A shudder raced down the length of her body. "That one had a grasp of how potentially dangerous a mimic's abilities are. And you know I've heard that mimics, when they get older and eat more and more, they can become horrifyingly strong. I don't want to imagine what that one could do down the line."

Askyr nodded grimly. "Right," he murmured. "It's a matter to look into. And I'll be sure to send a few people to deal with the DiVenture crew later on. But, for now, we have more pressing concerns. A man with a high profile like DiVenture being murdered... there's going to be plenty of people sniffing around. That's what we need to be focused on, preparing for the fallout."

"I suppose," Leona murmured. "I don't doubt he's already told the authorities about Valle. And perhaps my presence, too." A worrying prospect, but she was sure she could evade any guard patrols if she had to.

"You did well getting Valle off the streets. But now that he's a wanted man... it seems he may well have outlived his usefulness." He sighed and rose to his feet, strolling to the chamber door. He motioned for Leona to follow after him.

The corridors ahead of them were dark stone, overgrowing with lichen and toadstools. But they had made sure to leave a few lanterns lit to help guide their way.

Along the way they passed by a few goblins who had made their home in the tunnels, at Lord Bleak's insistence. Their angry, baleful eyes met Leona's in passing.

Stolen novel; please report.

The goblins were allied with the Brotherhood against a common enemy, but that did not make them friends. It was just that the goblins had numbers that made them into valuable manpower, and would not think twice about any orders given to them. But Leona knew, all too well, that they were most certainly not friends.

Still, when the time came they'd deal with the goblins too.

"O-oh! Ser Askyr! Hello! A moment of your time, if you would be so kind!" a gentle, foppish voice called out. They were passing a series of windows that had been carved into the tunnel walls, affixed with sturdy metal grating that prevented anything larger than a pair of fingers from poking through.

Askyr sighed and motioned for Leona to halt. She peered through the grate to the massive and well lit chamber beyond. It had all the comforts a man could need. A plush and padded bed in the far corner, a bookshelf with many complex tomes on the shelves, a few bottles of finely preserved wine, and drawing table with many half-finished sketches atop the slanted surface.

The man inside was dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark brown trousers, his beard neatly trimmed thanks to the shaving kit he'd been gifted. One would assume him to be a normal resident of the underground structure, until they saw the great steel shackle that was wrapped around his left ankle. The chain for it was rather long, enough to encompass about two laps of his prison cell.

It was perhaps the nicest prison one could hope to find in Arcadia.

The resident, of course, did not quite appreciate these comforts. Prisoners scarcely enjoy prison, no matter how nice they are. Much to the sorrow of the wardens who try ever so hard to gussy things up for them.

"Hello, Ser LeBon," Askyr said in a low, crisp voice. He managed to feign civility, only because Lord Bleak had ordered their prisoner to be well taken care of.

Until he gave his captors a reason to be rough with him, naturally.

"I was just er..." LeBon ran a tongue over his cracked lips, his eyes alight with the kind of mania known only to men who had spent months locked in a cell. "I was wondering if I could, perhaps, go free soon?"

"Are you still working hard on your inventions?" Askyr asked, folding his hands behind his back.

LeBon glanced frantically over his shoulder to a workstation currently housing a long steel pipe on it, finely tailored and sculpted with the myriad of special tools invented by LeBon's own hands. "I... I am," he murmured.

"Well, then, his lordship still has use of you. I would suggest you continue your tinkering until such time as your work is deemed complete." He turned and trod off with Leona in tow.

"W-wait! I've been down here for so long!" LeBon cried. "I don't even know what month it is anymore!"

Leona tutted to herself as she breezed past LeBon's stalwart guards. "Poor bastard." Too naive to understand that his life was over as soon as he was deemed no longer of use.

It did not take long to find the chamber that Valle Irons had been placed in. A cramped room that felt all the tighter with the three of them inside of it. Valle was still leaning against the back wall where Leona had left him.

The man looked catatonic, Elijah's blood marring his shirt like a dried mural.

Askyr sighed and shook his head. "You really have made a mess of things for us, you know," he said, settling a hand on his blade. "As unpleasant as I found you to be, you were always adept at performing tasks given to you. Now, as a wanted criminal, what good are you?"

Valle didn't answer. His slack-jawed expression barely changed. Were it not for the slow movements of his chest, or his sporadic blinking, it would be easy to assume he was a corpse.

"Honestly. Not even going to say anything in your defence? What a wretch you are. You cause us trouble, and can't even muster an apology?!" He punctuated the last word with a harsh backhand, knocking Valle onto his side.

That, finally, got a reaction out of him. Valle groaned, a shaky hand rubbing at his aching cheek.

Leona shook her head and leaned against the doorframe. She doubted Valle was even capable of running away, but it didn't hurt to be cautious.

"I should just kill you here and now, save us all some damn bother. Your resources are no good to us now, and I have no doubt your factory will soon be crawling with city guards."

Leona sighed and closed her eyes. "At least some of the blame is mine. Had I killed both of them, we wouldn't be in this situation."

"True. But he's the one who created this situation for us in the first place. And since he can provide no more use for us..." Askyr drew his blade, orange light gleaming on the perfectly tended edge.

"Wait..." Valle hissed.

Askyr loomed above him, a dispassionate look on his face. "Why should I?" he asked.

"I have... I have one more thing... my trump card... for a time like this." There was no emotion in his voice as he spoke. But Valle was a survivor at his core, a man who would do anything to live in even the most dire of situations.

"Ha. Of course you do. Well, this should be good for a laugh... Come on. Say your piece."

And Valle Irons did just that. He spoke of a secret known only to a handful of men in the kingdom, a secret he had only learned through some sneaky, underhanded means while travelling in the smoky underbelly of Arcadia's gambling halls. Something constructed in the wake of Velasco rise to power, which would be a great asset if it could be found.

Askyr and Leona listened, initially to humour him, but growing intrigued as they pried more details from the man. And it became increasingly clear that it was not just the deranged ramblings of a coward desperate to save his skin.

There may well have been some legitimacy to his words.

Askyr scoffed and shook his head. "You live for now," he said as he sheathed his blade. "At least until we verify this... promise of yours. But if it turns out you are lying you will have graduated from a swift death to a slow one."