When all was said and done, Sylvia and I left the Paine estate and went to meet up at a busy public carriage stop deeper into the city, away from the estates of the nobles and wealthy. We didn’t have to wait long for the nondescript carriage to arrive with its hooded driver.

  As the coachman closed the door behind us, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the dark, hooded figure. Her face was shrouded in that impossible darkness born from her magic item.

  “Long time no see,” I said.

  The deep chuckle didn’t match her usual voice, but Lin played along regardless. “Dragonslayer. Priestess of Blood. Or is that name unwelcome, Miss?” she asked.

  Sylvia shrugged with a single shoulder and said, “Not my first choice, but people can call me what they want. Better than being called a monster, I suppose.”

  “So be it then,” Lin said with a nod.

  “Where are we headed?” I asked.

  “One of our numerous sites in the city. I’m sure you’ve already prepared yourselves. However, be warned, it’s not exactly a highly ranked tourist destination,” Lin answered.

  There was no point in asking any more than that. If Lin asked for our help, then the situation was truly beyond her and her people. I highly doubted that there were so many people who could not only survive but also keep their information to themselves after facing interrogation. And I am sure that Lin has added a few tricks to the pain repertoire over time.

  The scene beyond the drawn curtains began to change. The bustling streets of the capital began to slow down. The roads narrowed, with the homes getting closer together. The scent of sewage was gradual until it suddenly intensified. Homes were replaced with warehouses and other facilities. It wasn’t a slum, just an industrial sector, one that happened to handle a very particular business of the city. As Lin said, it wasn’t a place a tourist would visit. Or anyone who didn’t work in the area, for that matter.

  The carriage slid into an unmarked warehouse, the large wooden doors closed, and Lin led the way. There were a few workers moving crates, stacking them on top of each other or onto carts to be transported elsewhere. However, it was clear that these were not simple men, nor was it a civilian operation.

  The warehouse was too large, and had way too many boxes for a dozen or so men to be working it. It may pass a cursory glance, but that was it. Then again, most people who wanted to dig into this family would undoubtedly be biting off more than they could chew. This place was meant for things or people to go into and never be seen again.

  Lin glided through the towers of crates as if she had been here a million times. A large man rounded a corner; his rough features gave the impression that he belonged in a local gang. But he nodded in respect the moment he saw Lin and let us pass without a word.

  Lin stopped at a particular large crate; it didn’t stick out any more than that. She tugged on the side, and it swung open like a door. The wooden box masked a set of stairs that led into the depths. We followed her down the switchbacks, only lit by the scant few torches.

  The scent of sewage faded, replaced by the heavy, musky scent of iron. Sylvia’s nose twitched, and I had to imagine if it smelled as strongly to me as it had to have been doubled for her. At the bottom of the stairs, a thick iron door waited for us.

  We didn’t even get a few steps toward it when the viewing port slid open. The masked eyes only needed a few seconds before it shut, the door being unlocked from the other side. The room beyond was best described as the guard room. A few masked and hooded figures sat around tables, playing cards, sleeping in cots, and just casually talking amongst each other.

  It looked rather normal, besides the individuals occupying it, their weapons close at hand, and the foul stench of blood that seemed to permeate every inch of the space. The atmosphere broke down, and everyone who wasn’t sleeping began to stand up to salute, but Lin waved them down.

  “Come, let’s not stay any longer than needed,” she said.

  The guards pretended to go back to what they were doing, but their curious glances couldn’t be ignored. There was some talk of hiding our identities, but it hardly mattered. It’s not like it was a secret that Sylvia and I were deeply involved with Luminar anymore.

  We walked down the path. Another guard saw us approaching and unlocked the door, allowing us to pass. The moment he did, the full force of the blood and sweat wafted out of the rooms beyond. It smelt like a prison, a particularly bad one at that.

  Beyond the door, cells stacked with people sat side by side. Perhaps it was inhumane to confine so many people in such a place under its current conditions. But considering their crimes, they were less than Human anyway.

  A prominent, burly figure clad in black from head to toe turned to face us. Blood splattered across his gloves and apron. Even with the outfit, I still recognized him; it was Lin’s uncle.

  He bowed deeply, and we returned it with nods. “Thank you for coming on short notice,” he said.

  “We are just here to help. I assume this place doesn’t hold everyone?” I asked.

  “Correct, this is but one of many sites. This one holds the more important figures, along with some other unique cases,” he answered.

  I peered into the dark cells. At first, some of its occupants seemed to fit the bill. Rough-looking men or women, some may call them thugs or criminals at first glance. Even so, none of them dared to look up, not even curiously. They were scattered amongst some cells, but it was the others that made me pause.

  A cell on the right had only a few people in it, even though they wore nothing but rags and were beaten and broken, it was clear they weren’t the usual types. Maybe nobles or wealthy merchants. Another cell had an even stranger atmosphere amongst it. It was hard to place the people, just based on appearance, they looked normal.

  That was until it was clear that every single one of them looked brain-dead. Their eyes stared listlessly into nothingness. They didn’t react to the torch being thrust closer to them. They barely even looked like they were breathing, almost like they were already dead, like Zombies minus the rotting flesh.

  “We have categorized the rebels into four groups,” Lin began.

  “The first being the opportunists, criminals, thugs, prisoners who were let free from guard jails or the like. Their involvement wasn’t anything special; they merely took advantage of the chaos to do the things they were already doing,” Lin pointed to the cell of rougher-looking individuals.

  She walked slightly further in and pointed to a new cell. Unlike the others, these prisoners’ eyes shone with a certain fire in them, albeit a nearly extinguished one. A look of contempt, a rebellious spirit still lingering.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “These are the zealots, directly involved with the Amon-Ra church. Most of them are low-ranking clergy members or indoctrinated followers. They were given simple tasks, such as inciting localized rebellions, committing crimes, targeting key points like public areas or key infrastructure, and supplying groups with the means to act. But at the end of the day, they were nothing more than pawns to be discarded upon failure,” she explained.

  “I assume they talked?” I asked.

  Lin nodded. “They had little to offer, nothing we couldn’t find out from raiding the churches and seizing their documents and doing some legwork. Hardly worth their effort, but they still paint the broader picture for us,” she said.

  Sylvia stared quietly at that cell full of would-be nobles. “What about these ones?” she asked.

  It was impossible to see Lin’s face through the darkness, but it was her uncle who answered, “The coerced: nobles, merchants, and establishment owners, people outside the military or guards with some amount of influence. None are quite so prolific, but they are significant enough to cause damage while not being big enough to be noticed with their small numbers. They had family members kidnapped, crimes they committed held against them, and debts levied through the opportunists. They were low-hanging fruit, easily targeted without drawing attention.”

  “So if only a single one of them made a report…” Sylvia trailed off.

  “A great many lives would have been saved. But these fools doomed themselves and others. All those who were kidnapped, even they were killed long ago. Truly a waste,” Lin said.

  Arotal and Amon-Ra have their claws sunk deeper everywhere it seems…

  Then again, it made sense. A church could be built almost anywhere there were people. Their influence could spread naturally and, depending on the circumstances, rapidly at that. Not to mention that the religion itself was old and, before many of the recent events, at least seemed trustworthy on the surface.

  Even so, a disaster had occurred. How could Arotal apply so much pressure without leaving traces? I found it very hard to believe that Lin and her group were so inept at their jobs that they allowed those events to transpire. Just what means did Arotal have to engrave themselves so deeply into places without notice?

  There has to be something we are missing. Something beyond normal means.

  I looked to the other cages, and Lin sighed and said, “This is the last group, the one that has given us the most pause. We call them husks.”

  “Why such a name? I doubt it has anything to do with appearance?” I asked, staring down at the closest person to the cell door.

  Lin’s uncle brought a blood-stained notepad out and thumbed through it. “Cara, barmaid for a popular inn that frequents many city guards. Wife and mother of two. No debts, past or current criminal connections. No affiliation with the Amon-Ra church or any others. Well-liked and respected, until she poisoned over thirty guards using the bar's food on the day of the attack, murdered the owner, cook, and went on a rampage killing another guard and seriously injuring two others before being arrested. She hasn’t said a word since.”

  As he contiuned his explanation, I understood what the problem was. The woman stared forward with a listless expression. It was clear she had gone through the same torture as everyone else, but for a seemingly normal person, she committed a heinous crime that went against her nature, and didn’t say a single thing during interrogation. It was clear she was either a spy, deeply implanted into the city for a specific purpose, or there was something else. And as I looked out at the others, I started to believe the latter more than the former.

  “Is everyone else in this undergoing similar circumstances?” I asked.

  Lin’s uncle nodded to a young man with his back against the wall. His hollow gaze turned up to the dark ceiling. If it weren’t for the movement of his chest, I would have assumed he was dead.

  “Peter Answorths. Sargent of the guard at a prison. Father is a high-ranking city guard—years of duty and service throughout the family. Had a wife, but passed away during the attacks: no debt, crime, or religious affiliation. A rising star destined for success until he released dozens of prisoners after killing the warden,” he explained.

  So something is amiss then.

  I looked at Sylvia and nodded to her. She walked up the cell as her sword appeared from thin air. She lightly poked the woman in the arm. Fresh blood dripped from her wound, but she didn’t even so much as flinch.

  Sylvia closed her eyes as she concentrated. She had a sour expression before her eyes widened in shock. “There—there is something attached to their spines? What? I can’t seem to get rid of it? It’s made of…metal? Wait, there are two of them.”

  Sylvia stepped away from the person and flicked the blood off her sword. She turned to us and said, “There is a metal band around a single piece of their upper spine and one on the lower. It’s relatively small, and you wouldn’t be able to notice it unless you cut them open and purposely looked for it. Doesn’t this...it sort of reminds me of those things we found in Curia on the bodies.”

  I felt Lin’s gaze and immediately nodded at her. The mysterious willpower, the cruel crimes they committed, were sudden. It made sense if they were being controlled. And placing an obedience collar on someone’s cervical spine was an ingenious method.

  From the outside, it could easily be hidden. And placing it there meant that if someone went digging around there, they would be far more likely to kill them than save them. And not many people would go digging around in a corpse to find answers, let alone expect something to be implanted in their spine.

  “If it is some type of obedience collar, then we will have to ask for your help, Miss Sylvia. Preserving their lives without current methods may not be enough,” Lin requested.

  Sylvia frowned at that but let out a long sigh. “Alright, I’ll do it. Don’t expect too much, though, I’m not exactly a doctor,” she said with a shrug.

  Lin let out a chuckle and said, “Good thing we know a few.” But she contiuned, “However, this is not our only problem at present. Would you follow me, Dragonslayer?”

  —

  I was led deeper into the prison where a single cell rested at the back. The dirty stone walls were replaced with thick, blood-red metal plates. Two guards watched the door, but Lin took me to a viewing room. The small room glowed with runes; a clear glass panel, etched with the same blue runes, faced the lone prisoner, strapped to a chair.

  The middle-aged Human man with dirty blonde hair was strapped to the chair. An arrogant smile on his face as he let his head roll around, seemingly enjoying the moment despite his bruised and cut body. Fresh and dried blood mixed across him.

  “Who is he?” I asked.

  “One of the men who attacked your Grandpa,” Lin answered.

  …

  “I see…he must be special then,” I said.

  Lin sighed as she explained, “He’s a tough nut to crack, that’s for sure. I’ve hit him with everything in at least two books, and even one not from this world, and he is still standing strong.”

  “No doubt a highly trained individual and a religious zealot to boot. Drugs?” I asked.

  “He has an abnormally high tolerance to them,” Lin answered.

  A religious zealot, trained in torture methods. Not an easy obstacle to overcome, even more so in this world. With magic, there was a real possibility that man had been tortured for weeks on end. Pain, starvation, all of it would be common to an agent like him.

  And with a religion grounding his sanity, he was unlikely to break mentally with typical techniques. Drugs may be of help, but if he had an immunity to them, it would be a simple matter. A man who can not be threatened, coerced, beaten, or broken into submission was indeed a troublesome opponent.

  “How far have you pushed his body?” I asked.

  “As close to death as we could get him, and don’t even mention obedience or slave collars, they aren’t working. I bet he has more than just two of those implanted inside of him. No doubt removing one would cause a chain reaction, killing him,” Lin said bitterly.

  “Under normal circumstances, yes. But with Sylvia, we can get those out before he even notices. Then we can put the pressure on him,” I said.

  “You have a plan?” Lin asked.

  “He may have a strong will, but at the end of the day, he is just a Human.”