AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter again contains certain parts of dialogue taken directly from the script.

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We are prelates to the lord, scum. We are not here to bend aught, we are come to cleanse! - Father Grissom

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Callo was uncertain how much time had passed since they had entered the sunken ruins of Leá Monde. Sydney led them with an unerring sense of direction throughout what had once been the lower levels of the great city. The wine cellar itself was massive, spanning room upon room. Callo walked behind Sydney and in front of Hardin, and Joshua walked beside her. On occasion she would attempt to speak with the young boy, but he always looked her with wide, frightened eyes before darting back to whatever security it was that Hardin offered. After a few attempts she gave up, and lost herself in the apprehension that was roiling in her mind.

The surroundings gave her no comfort. In certain passages they encountered scattered bones. If there was any doubt what species of animal they belonged to, the myriad of human skulls lying about were quick to assuage. The air was dank and ripe, smelling of something she could not discern; it unnerved her nonetheless. She tried to imagine what it had been like, centuries ago, when these rooms had been above ground and part of a city teeming with life. Her thoughts then wandered to the calamity which had destroyed Leá Monde: the great earthquake that had torn the earth apart and separated the city from the rest of the world. Were these bones of people who had died during the quake, she wondered, or were they the remnants of people who had sought to enter the city in search of treasure and knowledge? Perhaps, she mused grimly, they had once been the members the VKP had sent to infiltrate so long ago ...

Her morbid train of thought derailed as before her, Sydney abruptly halted. Hardin came forth, opening his mouth to speak, but Sydney raised one clawed hand to indicate silence. He was staring at the wall as if he could see something that they could not. Moments passed before he spoke.

"What's this? Agent Riot has come this far already?"

At his words, Callo felt hope flare through her. Her own gaze followed Sydney's in an attempt to pierce the physical boundary to see what lay on the other side.

"The labyrinthine aspect of these rooms has placed him behind us." The Müllenkamp leader continued, still intently watching what it was the others could not see. "Ah, he is not the only one that dogs our steps. The Cardinal's lackeys are here as well."

"They come in force?" Hardin asked grimly.

"Yes." Sydney turned from the wall to face his comrade. "If they are here, Guildenstern will not be far behind."

"What will we do? We cannot face their numbers."

"Do not fret, Hardin, not yet. I know a way to remove them from our path, if only temporarily. Follow quickly." He strode briskly to the door at the end of the chamber they stood in, a door they had already come through, and pulled it open. It led to a large cavernous room, the one they had just left, and from within the faint sounds of voices emanated. Sydney turned to them with a clawed finger pressed against his lips; a gesture for silence. He looked then to Callo.

"I believe it is time we send your friend Ashley a gift." he said softly with a vague, enigmatic smile. Before she could ask what he meant to do, he began to chant soundlessly in a spidery language, the likes of which she had never heard before. Callo watched in frightened awe as Sydney's image began to ripple, and then fade. Colors flowed together and then bled away until standing before them was a completely different person. Tall, undoubtedly aristocratic, and armored in the manner of the church was this man; shrewd dark eyes regarded them all from within a stern, arrogant face.

Callo gasped. The man before them was Romeo Guildenstern! Her gasp was echoed by Joshua, who gripped Hardin's hand tightly in alarm.

"Hush, now," Hardin told the boy quietly, "It's still Sydney. There's naught to fear."

Callo, hearing his words, could not help but wonder if perhaps he was wrong. She'd only seen Guildenstern twice, but she could recall enough to know that she was standing before an identical image. Everything about him was realistic, authentic, from the proud twist of the lips to the haughty demeanour which radiated from him. Any trace of Sydney had effectively disappeared.

"Wait here," Guildenstern/Sydney said before turning and striding through the open door. Hardin waited a few seconds before indicating Callo was to follow him, and with some reluctance she did so. They entered the next room. They stood upon a high ledge in one corner that was situated in shadow. A staircase led to the lower level. With a hand on her arm, Hardin indicated that they would remain in this spot. He pointed then to the center of the room to where Sydney/Guildenstern stood before two Knights of the cross. Sydney was speaking in Guildenstern's voice, and the sound carried clearly back to the others where they stood.

"Here comes one of the Parliament's watchdogs. You, go back and silence his yapping."

"Parliament's ... watchdogs?" One Knight queried.

"An agent of the VKP. You can follow orders, can you not? The VKP is your enemy. Now, go!"

"Sir!" The two Knights snapped simultaneously, before turning on their heels and running through one of the three doors behind them. Sydney/Guildenstern turned and began striding towards Hardin and the others, and as he walked the image bled away until once again it was the Müllenkamp leader before them.

"That should prove an entertaining diversion for Agent Riot." He remarked as he ascended the stairway again.

"You've thrown them off well enough," Hardin agreed, "but for how long?"

"Long enough," Sydney replied, "for us to make good our escape. Let us continue."

He said nothing more, but stepped past them to enter again the corridor. Callo was gazing at the door the Knights had gone through, feeling whatever hope she had just found slip slowly away. Sydney was too shrewd and perceptive, it seemed, for anyone to stumble upon them. She wondered then if Ashley would come through Sydney's diversion unscathed. Hardin nudged her gently, meaning for her to follow Sydney, and bowing her head, she let despair descend upon her once more.

-----

Riskbreaker Ashley Riot had killed a minotaur.

As incredulous as it sounded, there was no denying the evidence which was sprawled before him. It was a massive corpse, frightening even in death. It had stood on hooved feet, and the horns rising from the bull like head had provided all the evidence needed. It was in fact a minotaur, a creature of myth brought to life. He had walked through one door to find himself faced to face with the enormous beast. It had attacked so swiftly that he hadn't time to think about the impossibility of the situation; he had defended himself before launching an attack of his own. It was over swiftly, and Ashley knew that the killing blow he had delivered had been as much the result of chance as it had been skill. No longer would he wonder about the credibility behind the legends of what creatures wandered the sunken ruins of Leá Monde, for the truth lay before him.

Abruptly, something began to happen to the minotaur's corpse. It began to darken, and disintegrate into pieces of shadow. Ashley took a step backwards as, with a loud rush of air, all traces of the creature melted away in the air. The Riskbreaker numbly shouldered the sturdy crossbow he had found within a chest in one of the previous rooms, and shook his head in stubborn disbelief.

A sound filled the air then, the rhythmic tapping of metal on metal. Ashley whirled, bringing the crossbow up to bear, to find none other than the very person he had come in search of standing before him. Sydney was applauding, a smile crossing his face as he strode forth and halted a few feet away.

"Sydney!"

The Müllenkamp leader's smile grew wider. "So this is a Riskbreaker. Most men complacently accept knowledge as truth. They are sheep, ruled by fear. But you are different. Always calm, detached. A smooth flow of thought into action. Indeed ... it is almost as if ... as if you had no soul."

He began walking, making a wide circle about Ashley. "How do you do it? Body and soul are one ... yet yours are separate, like a child from his knight in a storybook. Where is your soul, Riskbreaker? Is this VKP training? Or did you see something that made you shut your soul away?" Sydney stopped then, directly before Ashley. "Show me your ... soul."

He thrust out one metal hand, palm facing Ashley. The Riskbreaker gasped as an onslaught of images rushed through him, memories from a time long ago when he had lived a different life, been a different person. He struggled against them; he did not want to live through the pain they brought, not again. He was helpless to resist, though, and as they crashed over him he fell heavily to one knee.

Here was Tia, his beloved Tia.

Here was Marco, the son he loved more than life itself.

Here they were lying dead before him.

As if from a great distance, he heard Sydney's voice, hard and relentless. "You killed your wife and child."

Ashley shook his head, still in the grasp of the visions. "...They were slain by fallen knights, jackals."

"Wrong. You failed to protect your wife, your child. You failed in your duty as a knight, as a husband ... as a father. You killed them!"

"Sydney!" Ashley shouted, surging to his feet. The memories halted then, receded back into the furthest reaches of his mind where they had been previously locked away. He took a sudden step towards the prophet, only to find Sydney stood on the opposite side of the large chamber.

"Try to catch me, Ashley Riot! Look outside yourself to find the truth!"

The Riskbreaker was breathing heavily, trembling now from what he'd been forced to recall. "What's your game?"

Sydney did not answer, instead calling over his shoulder, "Hardin!"

From a ledge behind and high above the Müllenkamp prophet, a door opened. Hardin appeared, holding a knife to the throat of a struggling woman ...

Ashley recognized her instantly. "Merlose!"

"Pay no heed to me!" She cried despite the blade at her throat. "Take them, Riot!"

He lunged towards them, but Sydney stepped smoothly into his path. "The city of shade will forgive your sins, my son - and call forth a power ... a power that lies within you even now! This is my game. I run, you give chase. I am the hart, you are the hunter. But this hart has laid a few snares of his own. I am waiting for you, Riskbreaker."

Ashley struck out then, unsheathing his blade in a swift and seamless movement. Sydney was gone; already rising into the air with an effortless grace to land on the ledge where Hardin and Merlose had stood. The prophet gazed on him a moment longer before turning and disappearing into the shadows.

"H-Hold! Sydney! Damn!"

Sudden agony shot through Ashley, muscles jerking and lungs heaving. He fell to all fours as a rush of energy flooded him, paralyzing him. A second later it was over, and he was left kneeling, breath coming in harsh gasps.

"What - what is happening?"

Floating back to him as if carried by the air, he heard Sydney's faint and ominous words: I am waiting for you, Ashley Riot.

-----

Some time after their encounter with the Knights, Sydney had called a halt to their progress. In a small chamber filled with wine casks, bats, and a few scattered bones he ordered Callo and Joshua to stay in one corner while he and Hardin withdrew to the other side of the room to speak together in quiet tones. Callo, try as she might, was unable to hear what they said. Feeling a weariness she was unaccustomed to, she sank down to the ground with the cold stone wall at her back. Her hands had gone numb long ago from the bindings, and, wincing at the pain, she moved them now in an attempt to regain some feeling. Joshua sat down not far away, beside a giant cask, and was watching her with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity. Callo offered him a smile meant to comfort, and was surprised to see the flicker of an answering smile cross his pale, frightened face.

"We'll make it through this," she whispered to him. "I promise."

He did not answer, distracted as Hardin strode near. Callo stood, expecting Sydney to order them to begin their trek again, only to find the prophet was nowhere in sight. She looked a question at Hardin, but he did not offer an answer and instead withdrew his knife. "Turn around," he directed her. "I'll take that rope off."

She did as she was told, and as the rope fell away she brought both arms before her and began to rub her wrists. There were red marks around them where the rope had rubbed her skin raw, and the tips of her fingers were pale from lack of circulation. "Where has Sydney gone?" She asked.

"To deal with the Riskbreaker." The other man replied, kneeling before Joshua and offering him a strip of dried meat he'd taken from a pouch at his side.

Ashley!

Callo did not hesitate. Glancing once at Hardin where he knelt, she took a deep breath and sprinted for the door set in the opposite wall, the one she assumed Sydney had gone through. She heard Hardin curse, and she was reaching for the door as he grabbed her from behind. Her desperation gave her added strength, and she twisted in his grasp to deliver a powerful backhand blow. He reeled, and she leapt again for the door. His hands caught at her hair, pulling brutally, and with an agonized cry she fell backwards. Her struggles ceased abruptly, however, as she felt the cold length of his knife against her throat.

"That was very foolish, woman," He snarled.

She was saved from replying by Sydney's voice, calling out from behind the door she had tried to get to. "Hardin!"

Hardin cursed, and with one arm wrapped around Callo's waist and the other holding the knife at her neck, he turned them both in a circle to face Joshua where he stood alone at the other end of the room, frightened tears streaming down his face.

"Wait here, boy." Hardin ordered, and though his tone brooked no disobedience it had softened somewhat. "I will come back."

The boy nodded once, and, satisfied, Hardin turned and wrenched the door open without releasing Callo. As they stepped into the chamber beyond, Callo gasped. Below them, on the main floor facing Sydney, was Ashley!

He saw her as soon as she saw him, and he called out her name. Elated to see him alive, she cried out, "Pay no heed to me! Take them, Riot!"

Hardin's retribution for her outburst was swift; with a sharp, searing motion the knife drew blood. He hauled her back into the room and thrust her away with such force that she staggered into the wall. As she regained her balance she brought a hand to her neck; it came away smeared with a few drops of blood. Hardin strode towards her, every step radiating his fury, and Callo shrank away. He raised his hand to deliver a blow, and she closed her eyes against the pain she knew was coming.

Seconds passed, and nothing happened. She opened her eyes again. Sydney was beside Hardin, and he had wrapped his long metal fingers around Hardin's arm to prevent the blow. The two men were glaring at each other intensely; a battle of wills. Abruptly, Hardin lowered both his head and his arm.

"She made a run for the door," He said by way of explanation.

Sydney nodded, eyes moving to Callo, crouching now before a row of wine casks. "I see. Speak now to the boy, Hardin. He will need reassurance."

Hardin, with one last glower in Callo's direction, stalked off to the other corner where Joshua stood.

"Inquisitor," Sydney said, drawing closer, "It was not wise to anger Hardin. His temper, when unleashed, is a force to reckon with."

"Let me go," Callo whispered, the realization that she had missed her one and only opportunity to escape hitting her hard. "Please."

Sydney shook his head, dropping to a crouch before her. With the casks at her back she could not retreat, and so she watched him warily. One clawed hand rose towards her throat; she made a small noise, and moved her head to the side. "Be still, Inquisitor." Sydney said. "I only mean to soothe."

Confused, she allowed him to wrap his hand around her throat. His metal fingers were uncomfortably cold against her skin, and she shuddered. She knew then that he possessed such strength in those claws as to end her life right instantly, but instead he dropped his head and murmured something softly. A tingling, warming sensation crept through her, and when he removed his hand she brought her own up to feel where the knife wound had been. Her fingers came away dry; the small gash was gone, and her neck was as if it had never been marred.

She stared at Sydney then in utter disbelief. "What power is this?"

His lips curved into the smile she was fast becoming familiar with. "It is my own," he said. He stood, glancing at where Hardin stood with the boy. "We must continue on, and I'm afraid we will have to bind you again. You would do well to mind your manners from this point on."

"Wait!" She said as he turned to walk to the door. "Ashley - what have you done to him?"

"Agent Riot," he replied without turning, "is alive and well."