Lesquare's story so far...

  Lesquare, a Commander in the secretive Triskellion Valley Command branch of the Collosean Army, had been tasked by his superior, Valley Admiral Henney, with rooting out the underground sects that have, in their words, been plaguing Embestour City and Collosea as a whole. With the recent rise in the movements of the cult known as 'The New Becoming,' and their accused association with the discovery of a crop of arcane flora, Lesquare had been ordered to focus his efforts primarily on their activities. This discovery of Two-Cross Ajers had been made by a Frontstock named Iskal Marks, who had now been enlisted in the Valley Command, and was to be taken under Lesquare's wing as an assistant and potential protégé. Lesquare, however, ever the sceptic, was weary of this new recruit, and suspected there may something unsavoury lurking beneath the surface.

  'Well, colour us grateful.' Said Ponsonby, face petulant and overly dramatic, voice straining like a cheap brass instrument in the way that had always grated at Lesquare. 'To have the honour of sitting to parlay with one so genteel as Commander Lesquare.' Said Cravitch, continuing his Nephew's sentence.

  Lesquare decided to address the older Cravitch directly. It had brought more success in the past and the tall twig of a man was less prone to fits of bad temper than the chubby Ponsonby currently looking up at him from the chair. 'You and I both know our past parlays have resulted in mutual benefits.'

  'True,' said Cravitch, 'but we were actually about to head to our private fighting pit to inspect the latest stock, so if you and your... new friend' he looked Iskal up and down like a farmer inspecting an tired old workhorse 'would like to discuss said parlay, you'll have to join us there. I trust you're not squeamish.'

  'Not in the slightest.' Returned Lesquare, meaning the words. For a second he thought on some of the more brutal acts he'd seen and done himself.

  The portly Ponsonby stood up, using his hands as leverage to hoist himself from the navy leather throne. 'Keep up then, Commander. You too, Commander's pet.' Lesquare noticed Iskal stifling a wince, and wondered whether it was from the unsubtle insult directed at him, or that he too couldn't stand the squeaky voice of the Nephew Fadoon.

  Ponsonby and Cravitch walked ahead by about ten paces, keeping a slow, measured momentum. In the current of their movements followed Iskal and Lesquare, with several henchmen close at their sides to ensure they didn't catch up to the Fadoon pair. Cravitch was leaning down to his Nephew, and the two were exchanging words. Lesquare guessed that they were making bets as to what he could offer them.

  They circled a large pillar to the right of the stately room, behind which lay an open, barn-like door on sliding hinges. They were then led down a series of passageways, these ones less opulent than the porch corridor that proceeded the centre room. The carpet was replaced by concrete, and eventually they began to step over old paper and hay that seemed to be littered thoughtlessly. In the few times he'd visited the Fadoons, Lesquare had never ventured to these parts of their residency. He made a mental note of the walkway layouts, any door or stairway or passage he saw, just for posterity, as per his training.

  They turned down a dim stairwell, and then a final passage that then opened out onto a large underground arena: the legendary private fighting pit of the Fadoons. It was gargantuan, rivalling the largest of the surface pits. The tiered stone stairs opened out above them to a craggy ceiling painted gold. Lesquare and Iskal were led up the stadium steps to a private box in the stands, adorned with a cloth-draped gazebo and seats of fine suede, upon which they sat.

  'Bring out the Buck we paid so handsomely for, and a few of the more spritely hounds. I want a good test of their grit.' Ordered Cravitch to a subordinate, who promptly scurried off. 'So what is it you have for us, and what is it we have for you?' He then asked, now shifting in his seat to face Lesquare, his brown tunic stretching with the motion.

  Lesquare himself had been watching Iskal take in the grandiosity of the place, but nudged him to attention before responding to the query. 'You pride yourselves on your proclivity for the harnessing and curating of information,' said Lesquare, his naturally smooth demeanour now feeling somewhat forced, 'particularly that relating to the hum of Embestour. What is it you call it? Your...'

  'Our knowledge industry.' Confirmed Ponsonby.

  'Right. We come to you to inquire about a particular subset of said industry.'

  'You come in desperation?' Inquired Ponsonby with excitable humour. 'A man of your pride Lesquare, slumming it. It's been some time since you've knocked on our door. I thought you'd forgotten about us, and I'd bet my last tooth this is a visit of desperation. Desperation I'd say.'

  'It's hardly desperation.' Retorted Lesquare. 'The topic in hand simply happens to be a unique one. And I wouldn't call this slumming it.' He gestured around.

  'Desperation, as I said,' repeated Ponsonby, looking at the pit, 'to try and butter us like this.'

  Lesquare did feel a new wave of sickness with each word, not least because there was some truth to Ponsonby's theory. He hated that he had to breathe the same air as these two crooks, but he despised failing in his duty. Regardless, this feeling couldn't be shown, not for a millisecond. Needs must. 'We're looking for information pertaining to the New Becoming Sect. We heard through the grapevine that you might have snagged one of their members.' In truth this was near-about the only information he and Iskal had managed to uncover in recent weeks.

  'Ah yes, we'd heard rumour you'd been asking around about this particular cult.' chuckled Cravitch. 'Honestly, I'm not surprised you've turned up, we even had a bet on it. Speaking of...' Ponsonby grunted and slipped his hand into his wool coat, pulled out a single Ryal piece, and deposited them in Cravitch's hand. 'My Nephew doesn't know you as well as I, it seems.'

  'Are the rumours true?' Asked Iskal suddenly.

  'So he speaks! Why I'd thought this one mute.' Said Cravitch, now laughing, and in a childish voice, continued: 'Yes young man, the rumours are true!'

  'Did this scoundrel you caught reveal anything of note?' Interjected Lesquare.

  Cravitch was about to respond, but was interrupted by a cacophonous grunt-wail that sounded from one of the pit tunnels, followed by a procession of barks. Then, from the darkness of the tunnel emerged a deer of such enormity that Lesquare sat back into his seat from surprise. Its antlers were naturally encased in velvet that appeared to emit blue flame, and from its jaw jutted teeth the length of a pigeon's wing. At this distance, it looked to Lesquare to be about the size of an adult moose, at least compared to the three men holding it in place via thick spiked chains.

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  'Is that... a Daggertooth Buck?' Asked Lesquare, mesmerised.

  'A 20-hander.' Boasted Ponsonby.

  'I've never seen...'

  'Not many have.'

  Another Fadoon employee then appeared from a different arena door, holding a pack of five enraged Rottweilers on two heavy chain leashes, each of them now snapping and barking at the mysterious antlered creature.

  'Release them!' Cried Ponsonby, in a high-pitched yelp.

  At the command, the wranglers pulled a chord that ran along the chain leashes, and the braces around each of the animal's necks clicked loose before falling clumsily to the pit sand. There were a few seconds of stillness in the pit, broken only by the hurried runs of the wranglers to the safety of the pit walls, before the dogs dug into the soft ground, and leapt to bear down on the buck.

  The buck faced them, antlers lowered and mouth opened so as to bear the dagger teeth. The blue flame of the velvet turned silver white, light starlight, with a core of brilliant deep orange. The first dog reached the buck in seconds. It came down on its haunches before jumping upwards in the direction of the deer's neck. In a flash, the daggertooth buck swung its blade-tipped white antlers and sliced through the hound's face. The dog's coat immediately began to catch alight, as if now enveloped in a flaming liquid.

  The other dogs suddenly slowed, hesitating, before their genetically-bred aggression kicked in again and began the advancement once more. Two leapt at once, the buck catching one in it's knife-laden maw, while the other managed to make contact with its ankle. The buck bit through the caught dog like butter, before wailing in pain, and dancing in the sand in an attempt to kick off the successful Rottweiler. The guttural sound made Iskal visibly cringe, while Lesquare was stopped-still by the sight before him. The Fadoons meanwhile were exchanging opinions and laughing like they were at a livestock auction.

  The fourth dog miss-calculated its jump and became immediately entangled in the sharp antlers, where it set alight instantly and yelped a whimpering scream as dark smoke burst upwards from the burning fur and flesh. The buck kicked off the dog from its ankle and stamped downwards with a well-timed kick, breaking the beast's neck. The final dog didn't even reach the buck. It merely ground to a halt. To Lesquare, it looked as though it was calculating the situation, or perhaps it was simply struck mad with fear, for it just trotted, uncertainly in a circle, before turning to bolt back down the tunnel.

  'Hm. Seems it was worth all those ryals.' Said Cravitch to his Nephew.

  'Hardly. Those weren't our top dogs, and one still managed to get his teeth into the leg. The buck is slow in reaction, not what we'd been sold on.'

  'Well then we'll just find the trapper and push him for some answers.'

  Ponsonby motioned to his uncle to cease the discussion by darting his eyes in the direction of Iskal and Lesquare.

  'Oh don't worry,' said Cravitch, 'it appears Commander Lesquare here has a lot more on his mind than some small scale back channel deals, isn't that right, Lesquare? Speaking of which where were we... your inquest about the Broken Headstones was it?'

  'The New Becoming.' Corrected Lesquare, well aware of Cravitch's deliberate attempt to mistake the cultists in question.

  'Ah indeed. Yes we did discover one of them in our ranks, one of our upper managers in fact. Quite by chance as well. They do keep well to themselves, these zealots. Of course, when we pressured him to confirm his true nature, he eventually broke his own dam, so to speak.'

  Lesquare didn't want to ask much further on this particular detail. He was well aware of the Fadoon's preferred route for greasing their 'knowledge industry.' They'll have simply called upon their vast repertoire of torture methods. Cravitch, however, didn't give him the opportunity to avoid this.

  'In fact, we employed a particular technique which, if I'm not mistaken, was invented by one of your predecessors from several generations ago, Lesquare. I'm sure you've heard of it? The five-step fading?' Lesquare remained silent, put on a face of boredom to try and dissuade Cravitch. But Cravitch instead switched his attention to Iskal, who couldn't help but show a fraction of intrigue.

  'How about you...?'

  'Chieftain Marks.'

  'How about you Chieftain Marks? You look a little fresh in the saddle but I'd bet you'd heard of the Valley Command's favourite technique for extracting information.'

  'Not as of yet.' Iskal's jaw feathered.

  'It wasn't even outlawed that long ago, well within our lifetimes.' Said Cravitch.

  'Your lifetime perhaps.' Slipped Lesquare.

  Ponsonby shot him an irate glare, but Cravitch continued unphased,, amused. 'It's quite elegant as a technique. Effective as well. You see, we strapped the interviewee down, then we take a physician on our payroll and ask him to remove one of the five senses from the... you know, I was going to say 'victim', but in this case he was guilty, so I'll use culprit instead. Anyway, naturally, we wanted to leave the ears until last if it were to get that stage, to assist with communication you see.'

  He leaned closer to Iskal, his sour musk enriching the air around them.

  'So we began with sight. First, one eye is cut away, then we asked the culprit if he belonged to the New Becoming. But he was strong this one, he remained resolute. Then the next eye was scooped out. The first of the five steps complete. Eyesight gone. We asked him again, and again he kept schtum. Next we went for the sense of touch. Our physicians are excellent at their job you see, able to pinpoint the exact spot in the spinal column which, if severed, would result in paralysis of the lower body. The culprit was in distress at this stage, but still wouldn't admit to anything. Next, came the senses of smell and taste - a tricky sense to cut out but a well placed pike knife directed up the nasal cavity ticked off the third and fourth steps.'

  Lesquare checked in on Iskal, but was surprised to find him still holding strong, on the surface at least.

  Cravitch continued: 'This culprit was an avid cook, loved to prepare grand meals for his family on his days off, which was Ponsonby's theory as to why the sense of smell made him finally crack. But we weren't finished there. We needed to know with whom in the New Becoming he'd shared the details of our operations. Our physicians perforated one eardrum, removed it entirely in fact, then removed the feeling up to his neck. This was the last straw, he told us a good bit of detail at that stage.'

  'Did you kill him?' Asked Iskal, voice dry and croaking.

  'Ha! No! Of course not! What would be the point of that? If they know they'll die eventually, why reveal anything? No no, boy, we just cut out his tongue and threw him out onto the street.'

  Lesquare was ruminating during the speech as to why Cravitch was going into such detail. He settled on the theory that he was simply intending to remind the two of them what might happen if they, one day, attempted to lock the Fadoons up. He glanced at the two crooks. 'So you do have information regarding the New Becoming?'

  'Yeah.' Said Ponsonby, 'Including locations. I wanted to take the boys and raid them myself but my Uncle persuaded me to wait until you came calling. And wouldn't you know it, here you are.'

  'Just out of curiosity,' interrupted Iskal, 'we in the Command naturally have a desire to burn out all the Cultists. It's our job, but why do you hold so much hate for them?'

  'He is raw, isn't he?' Smirked Cravitch to Lesquare, before looking back at Iskal and starting up with the same condescending tone a before. 'Cultist activity, like the raid on the Arcane Seed Vault in Haemonine all those weeks ago, brings unwanted attention to our underground economy. It disrupts the knowledge industry as the lamplight hits us as well as them. Furthermore, the New Becoming see us as part of the problem, the believe that wiping out families, grand institutions such as us, furthers their goal of a unified Oros. Does that answer your question? Good. Lesquare, lets talk terms.'

  'Same terms of before.' Said Lesquare firmly, anticipating the request.

  'No, no, no.' Said Ponsonby. 'You're struck with desperation remember? We'll be requiring more.'

  A headache was starting to form behind Lesquare's eyes. 'Fine.' He said, and braced for negotiation.