The grand hall stretched out before them, a vast space steeped in history and power. The towering ceiling was a masterpiece of artistry, adorned with elaborate frescoes depicting long-forgotten battles of great significance. Massive chandeliers hung from sturdy iron chains, casting mesmerizing shadows that danced along the walls, creating an atmosphere of mystery and intrigue. Tapestries of deep crimson and midnight blue draped the room, their faded sigils telling tales of noble houses long vanished from memory. At the far end of the hall, a roaring fireplace bathed the room in a warm, flickering light, illuminating the heavy wooden table that stood as the focal point of the chamber.

Seated at the head of the table was a man who exuded authority and command. His presence was palpable, emphasized by his noble attire—a dark velvet doublet intricately embroidered with silver thread that shimmered subtly in the firelight. A jeweled dagger, its hilt encrusted with rubies and sapphires, was secured at his waist. His sharp face was marked by high cheekbones and piercing, hawk-like eyes that seemed to see through to the very core of a person's soul. Each calculated tap of his fingers on the polished wood of the table echoed through the grand hall.

"And you say it was a success?" he spoke, his deep baritone voice carrying throughout the hall. He speared another piece of food on his fork and brought it up to his lips. He chewed with slow deliberation, waiting for a response.

"Aye, it was," the only other occupant of the room said. Standing across from him was a young woman, her lithe form clad in supple leather armor that clung to her body like a second skin, allowing for both protection and fluid movement. A quiver of meticulously crafted arrows was slung over her shoulder, while a sleek ebony longbow rested against the table within easy reach, its surface polished to a deep, glossy sheen. Her eyes, a striking shade of icy blue, gleamed with fierce determination and unwavering focus, a predator's intensity that did not falter as she met the nobleman's gaze. Her voice was foreign to his ears. It almost sounded musical and expressive. She spoke clearly and openly, her accent having a strange inflection at the end of each sentence.

He put his fork down while he finished chewing and crossed his hands in front of him on the table. His smooth, measured voice resonated throughout the grand hall. "The creature was released into the city as intended? No mistakes or errors?"

The archer nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "While the chaos was limited, it was spectacular. The guards took far too long to respond."

A smile played at the corners of the nobleman's mouth as he leaned back in his chair. "And yet, not one person was killed. Talk is that an initiate was there to...save the day."

He had read the report the day prior that a new female initiate had been on hand relatively quickly, a surprise considering the part of town it had happened in. While Adventurers were not an unexpected wrinkle in his plan, and initiates were as commonplace as rats, he hated having his subordinates decide what information he needed to hear.

The nobleman's eyes narrowed slightly. "Which brings me to a conundrum. Why am I only hearing about this initiate now, Seven?"

Seven straightened, her mind racing to formulate a response. "My lord, I had several reasons for not bringing this to your attention immediately. Firstly, I wanted to verify the information. Rumors often circulate after such events, and I didn't want to waste your time with unsubstantiated claims."

The nobleman leaned forward, his gaze intense. "Go on."

"Secondly," Seven continued, her voice steady, "I believed that focusing on an individual, especially an initiate, might detract from the overall success of our operation. The chaos we created, the fear we instilled – these were our primary objectives, and they were achieved."

"And lastly?" the nobleman prompted, his tone neutral.

Seven took a breath before answering. "I thought it prudent to assess whether this initiate posed any real threat to our future plans before troubling you with the information. An initiate, even a skilled one, seemed unlikely to significantly impact our broader strategy."

The noble adjusted his hands as he stared into Seven. "Suppose you had found out this initiate posed a threat to our plan. Moreover, you do not know all aspects of the plan. Suppose that she had caused a problem with other parts? Why did you not bring her to my attention immediately? If she were truly a danger, by the time you informed me, it would have been too late to act."

Seven met his gaze steadily, her voice measured. "My lord, I believed the risk was minimal at the time. An initiate, even a skilled one, seemed unlikely to disrupt our plans in any significant way. I wanted to gather more concrete information before burdening you with a potential non-issue. After setting the Golthorr in motion, I left the scene to ensure I wasn’t there when it finished being summoned. By the time I returned, it was dead. I thought it best to find out more for you, my lord."

The nobleman's eyes narrowed, a flicker of displeasure crossing his face. "So, you chose to gamble with our success on your own judgment?” A dangerous smile filled his face as he looked at her. The smile didn’t touch his eyes. “We do not have the luxury of dismissing potential threats, no matter how small they may seem. Your hesitation could have cost us dearly."

The archer's expression darkened, a frown creasing her brow as she spoke in a low voice to herself. "I knew it was stopped by an adventurer, but an initiate? That is unexpected. Those creatures are nearly invisible at night. They should have caused a path of carnage before an apprentice came by."

"Indeed," the nobleman agreed, his smile fading. "But adventurers are always an unpredictable variable. It's something we must account for. Nonetheless," he continued, his tone softening, "your execution in summoning the monster was exemplary. And perhaps the standout initiate can serve our purposes well."

The archer's frown eased, and a hint of pride flickered in her eyes. "Thank you. It was an honor to be part of such a pivotal moment."

The nobleman nodded appreciatively. "Your enthusiasm is noted and valued. This was just the first step, and it went according to plan. I am particularly interested to see how phase two unfolds."

Her eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Phase two will be even more impactful. The coordinated attacks you've devised will undoubtedly shake the city's foundations. But I must warn you sir, my portion of the next phase is still several months out."

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The nobleman leaned forward, his interest piqued. "Indeed. There will be time to get our agents in place, awaiting the signal to initiate the disruptions. We will employ various creatures and magical disturbances to incite fear and chaos. With the majority of our forces focused on the Academy, they should be put down quickly while still inciting a panic in the population. Change is coming."

She straightened, her excitement barely contained. "Your plan is brilliant. The city's defenses are weak and complacent. They won't stand a chance."

He nodded, a look of satisfaction crossing his face. "Precisely. The first phase has set the stage perfectly. Now, they spend time and resources verifying the defenses and after a brief intermission we will strike when they least expect it. An attack across the whole town should suffice to force the current leadership to step down."

The archer smiled, her confidence unwavering. "I am ready to carry out your orders and ensure the success of phase two."

The nobleman rose from his chair, walking towards the grand fireplace. He stared into the flames, his expression contemplative. "Remember, our ultimate goal is to seize control. This chaos is but a means to an end. We must be prepared for any eventuality."

She nodded, understanding the gravity of their mission. "I won't let you down. Phase two will proceed flawlessly under your guidance."

The nobleman turned to face her, his eyes filled with steely determination. "Good. Keep me informed of any developments. The future of our endeavor depends on the success of these plans."

As the archer turned to leave, the nobleman spoke up again. "Oh, and Seven, while I am perfectly content to have my subordinates have free reign within reason, I cannot abide by those who seek to deceive me. Please see Gorak. And when you are done, please go and find out what you can about this initiate. I will have Beatrice provide the information we have to you."

Seven, felt a chill run down her spine at the nobleman's words. She knew the implications of being sent to see Gorak, and it wasn't a pleasant prospect. However, she maintained her composure, nodding curtly in acknowledgment of her new orders.

"As you wish," Seven replied, her voice steady despite the unease that had settled in her stomach. She turned on her heel, her movements fluid and purposeful as she made her way towards the grand hall's exit.

As she reached the massive oak doors, Seven couldn't help but cast one last glance over her shoulder at the nobleman. He had returned his attention to the fireplace, his silhouette cut sharply against the dancing flames. The weight of her new mission hung heavily upon her shoulders as she slipped out of the hall, her mind already racing with plans to uncover information about the mysterious initiate who had disrupted their carefully laid plans.

As Seven left the room, her companion waited outside. He was younger, perhaps a hundred years old, and overeager to the point of annoyance. The archer stood before her loyal companion in the dimly lit hall, a sense of urgency hanging heavy in the air. The younger man, his eyes filled with unwavering loyalty, addressed her respectfully, "My Lady, what is our next move?"

With a steely gaze, she replied, "We had heard reports the creature was stopped. Turns out it was an initiate. Find out everything you can, leave no stone unturned. And Twenty-Five, if you do not succeed, the lord will not be happy just speaking with me." Twenty-Five paled a bit but nodded with determination. He had heard some of the screams that had come following a meeting with the lord and his associate Gorak.

As they plotted their course, they made many turns at various hallways. Eventually, they descended several stories below ground. Each step made Twenty-Five grow uneasy with suspicion as to their destination. When they finally came to the chamber's door, there was only one person they could be seeing. Seven opened the door to see the menacing Orc with a jagged scar cutting across his face. He looked up at her from the middle of reading a book. Twenty-Five could feel the room itself almost had an aura of cruelty and malice. And its maestro did nothing to minimize that.

The torture chamber was a cavernous space deep beneath the ground, its atmosphere heavy with dread and foreboding. Cold, damp stone walls surrounded the room, their surfaces rough and pitted from years of neglect. Flickering torches cast dancing shadows across the walls, creating an eerie, ever-shifting landscape of light and darkness.

In the center of the room stood a massive iron-framed chair, its design clearly intended for restraint rather than comfort. The chair's presence dominated the space, serving as a stark reminder of the room's grim purpose.

Along one wall, a towering rack held an array of vials filled with vibrant liquids. The glass containers gleamed in the torchlight, their contents spanning a spectrum of colors from deep crimson to electric blue. Labels on the vials indicated various potions and elixirs, including healing potions, stamina potions, and the ominous Vigilroot Elixir.

The air in the chamber was thick and oppressive, carrying a musty scent tinged with something metallic. The room's acoustics seemed designed to amplify every sound, from the soft drip of water in a distant corner to the echoing footsteps of those who entered.

Various implements and tools lined the walls, their purposes best left unexamined. The overall effect was one of calculated intimidation, designed to instill fear in anyone unfortunate enough to find themselves in this underground chamber.

Gorak, the Orc torturer, stood near his desk, his scarred face illuminated by the flickering torchlight. His presence added to the room's menacing atmosphere, his cruel smile revealing yellowed, pointed teeth as he regarded his visitors.

In the center of the room sat a massive iron-framed chair, its grotesque spikes and barbs casting eerie shadows that danced upon the walls. Next to the chair stood a towering rack of vials filled with vibrant liquids: healing potions, stamina potions, and other elixirs.

Twenty-Five couldn't help but linger a few seconds longer on the generous stack of potions, his eyes tracing the glistening labels. He was confused at first until he saw potions of Vigilroot Elixir, typically taken by guardsmen and students to stay awake. A chill ran down his spine as he considered the implications.

Gorak looked up, saw her enter, and smiled. That simple action sent a shiver down the backs of both Seven and Twenty-Five. Gorak got up from his chair and motioned to a different chair in the center of the room. "And what did you do?" he questioned Twenty-Five. His lips moved in odd ways around a tusk that protruded from his jaw. The question was almost musical, as if this was going to be the highlight of his week.

"I deceived the lord," was all Seven said as she sat down and then strapped herself into the chair. She looked up to her companion and nodded towards the door. "You have your task. Perform it well."

Gorak turned from her, his thick, gnarled hands gripped a vile vial of bubbling acid. A wicked smile played on his twisted lips and without a word, he advanced towards seven. His movements were deliberate and menacing.

With a swift and brutal motion, he poured the hissing acid onto her delicate hand, and arm. Twenty five could see the searing pain course through her body as her skin boiled and started to sluff off. As she cried out in agony, Gorak callously sliced off a part of her elven ears, the sharp blade leaving a cruel mark on her once flawless features. He admired them as her screams abated for a moment. Twenty five realized her body was likely going into shock, which he took for a small blessing. That is, it might have been going into shock before Gorak poured a potion in her open mouth. Her body started arching in ways that, were she not strapped down would, have caused further damage to herself and the screams started up again.

Unable to bear witness to the torture, the loyal companion reluctantly stepped outside, his stomach threatening to expel what little food it held. With a heavy heart, he closed the thick door behind him, muting the screams of pain and suffering echoing from within. He had his orders, and frankly didn't want to wait the thirty minutes it would likely take Gorok to finish up.