At the landing of the first flight of stairs, a tall man with a voice like Pendleton's, only deeper, was standing over and chewing out a short, nervous redhead girl in a brown jacket like his, and a flat cap. She wasn't taking his criticism well, with her hand rubbing at her sleeved arm and her head drooped.

"…Do you mean to tell me you do not know how to curtsey properly?" He spat with his arms akimbo.

"Please, sir…I was never in service with a noble," her voice was soft, and expressed a light begging of mercy to it, but with little hope of receiving it.

The man swiped his hand in anger; "That's not an excuse! You need to learn proper decorum. The Hound Pits has seen a few lords and ladies in its day."

"If they were here…I expect they didn't want to be recognized, sir…"

"Never mind that; the Lord Protector better be shown the respect he deserves. He doesn't require it, but Lord Pendleton insists."

"Yes sir, I'm sorry."

"You must be at your best this night, Cecelia. You are to personally see to Master Corvo's needs; draw him a bath and tend to his wounds. Those are Lord Pendleton's orders; he was wrong to insist you handle something you might make a fool of yourself out of, but his needs are of me and Lydia in the kitchen. Do not fail us, Cecelia; our reputation as Hound Pits Servants are on your shoulders." The man turned and with eyes suddenly widened, noticed Corvo standing just before him.

"Master Corvo, I am Wallace, a servant here at the Hound Pits Pub," he said and bowed. The girl, Cecelia, had fumbled in her curtsey; it seems that this man was right to criticize her curtseying. Wallace took notice to this at the corner of his eye and gave a disdainful expression. "I apologize about Cecelia; she apparently has never been in the presence of the Aristocracy before Lord Pendleton or you." Corvo adjusted his eye left and saw that Cecelia took steps back, rubbing her hands together and her expression obvious of self-shame. "Cecelia, apologize," ordered Wallace.

"I-I'm sorry sir..."

"You should be. Now…please, Master Corvo, follow me to your quarters. Cecelia! Do as you're told."

"Yes sir."

Wallace led Corvo to the very top floor, the attic, where through a right turn into a dor, and another right turn through another door had taken them into a wide room, where at one corner was a desk and bed right next to it, and along the wall was a sink with a mirror in front of it.

"Admiral Havelock chose this room for you to give you privacy; he assumed you would need the time alone," Wallace bowed again. "If you desire anything, Master Corvo, we will be at your service." You could surely go out and rescue my daughter for me; that would be much appreciated, thought Corvo. "For now, Lydia and I will be in the kitchen, preparing your dinner for this evening. It will be seasoned Salmon, with a side of buttered rice and cooked spinach. It will be served at seven o'clock this evening; we hope you will like it." Without another word, Wallace left the room, leaving Corvo by himself.

For a moment, Corvo basked in the silence, hearing only the steps of his boots as he made his way to the bed and sat down on it. He relieved himself of his weapons, laying the crossbow, pistol, and sword down onto the table, and he took another deep breath. The sharp pain came back again, and once again, more annoyed, he grimaced and held his side.

"Crap…" He muttered.

He took this time to look around the room, and found a drawer with spare clothes in there. More specifically, they were regular street clothes, except one long jacket the modeled that of the Lord Protector uniform he had, only this time it had on a hood of sorts, but for what reason?

Wallace had told him that the bathroom with the tub was located on the third floor; so Corvo went to it. He entered a door way on his right, just at the end of the hall. He saw a gathering of bunks, possibly for the servants of the place, and made a guess that the door in the corner with the steam coming out of the open way was the bathroom. He went to it, and when he turned, he nearly ran into Cecelia who looks like she was heading out.

She was startled, "Oh my!" She quickly curtseyed, and again fumbled. "I'm sorry, Master Corvo…" She apologizes a lot more than she has to. "Your bath is ready…I made sure it was hot enough to relax your pain. Of course I could've made it cold to make you numb, but knowing what happened you probably would have gone through a lot of cold water torture in prison, and that you would be tired of cold water for a while…or they could've used hot water to torture you…or lukewarm water…"

Corvo lifted his hand in the air to get her to stop, and she did. He nodded to her, signaling that it was alright.

"Oh…right, I'm sorry," She apologized, again. There was an awkward silence, as she nervously looked down to the floor. "Oh, I'm sorry; I'm in your way…" She stepped aside, and he watched her move as awkwardly as possible. "I'll get the medical supplies ready," Corvo turned in to the door, but stopped when he heard: "Oh, and Mr. Corvo, I-I left soaps and shaving supplies…in case you wanted to thoroughly clean off." He nodded in approval, and closed the door behind him.

With his privacy, he stripped down to the nude and slowly dipped himself in the bath, letting out a groan as he lowered further in. The water was hot enough, and soothing enough to release all the tension in his weak muscles, and finally, after six months of strain, find relaxation. The tub barely fit him, however, as he had to bend his knees just to sink in his chest. But it was enough to strip his mind down, just as the water did to the dirt on his skin. It was eroded down to a sensitive state, to a point of deep thought of the past events. His stare into the water blurred as the only thing he could see were the images of slaughter. From his lover, Jessamine, the blood oozing from her chest wound; his own body, which had been abused and decayed; and all those men he had killed in the prison, without remorse.

I…I killed…relentlessly… He thought. They deserved it…no…they had families…but how could monsters love their own blood?

He brought his hands up to his face, and he cringed, covering his eyes and clawing his forehead in frustration.

They deserved it…no…they were misled…they were fools…but it wasn't their fault…but they didn't dare question…but they were taught not to…but they took pleasure in my pain...but they were ordered to give pain…

"No…" He whispered, his voice cracking. "No…no no no…"

I'm a monster, a murderer, a taker of life. Jessamine would've hated me for allowing myself to lose all control, for murdering passionately. What would Emily think of me? She would never dare to call me her father…or worse, become like me.

He started to quietly sob, turning to his side frantically, the water splashing and spilling over the edge of the tub. He gasped, shakily exhaled, and dragged his palms down his cheeks, pulling down his lower eye lids. His crying had begun to die down, his mind coming back to a sense of order that he had before exposing himself to guilt.

I have to find the men that did this to me.

The faces of Campbell and Burrows appeared, and it physically infuriated him. His breathing had become speedy, and his brows had curled, his muscles stiffened with his tightening hold on the edges of the tub, his teeth gritted even harder to grinding point.

THEM…I'm going to kill them…they are the ones that need to be obliterated.

But another face came back to mind; it was the man that killed his lover, the man with the black hair and the scars. He remembers the glare this man had given him when he walked off, as though he challenged him to come and find him.

In the days of my revenge, yours are numbered. I will find you, and end you.

Corvo got done cleaning himself, then shaved himself in the mirror. The beard now gone, he looked like a reborn man, felt that way, as he dragged his fingertips across his jaw to feel the smooth skin. He emerged from the bathroom, coated in a white towel over his shoulders. He saw Cecelia over on one of the bunks, waiting patiently with her fingers interlaced. The bathroom door opening had grabbed her attention, and she looked his way.

"Oh, Mr. Corvo," she said. "I'm ready to treat you now." He didn't respond, he only stepped over and took his seat beside her. He removed the towel and threw it to the side, catching Cecelia in hesitation. "Oh my…" she gasped in awe at the damage done to his once glorious upper body. The olive skin of his was tainted with scars and scabs. One scab, a large one in particular, was left over the other day from the hot iron torture they had done. This was next to the large and rather very dark blue bruise that he received from earlier that day. Other scars prove evidence of other burns and other scabs pointed to more pieces of skin missing, and at this point, they were probably infected despite the hot bath. "What have they done to you...?" She reached and ran reluctant fingers softly across his rough skin, and then reached the bruise where Corvo reacted with a slight jump and a grunt. "Oh no…" she breathed sympathetically. "There's nothing I could do about the bruise, but I could pad it and help ease the pain."

She reached over and brought out a cylinder of red liquid. "This is Elixir, Anton Sokolov's recipe. It can work as a painkiller if you drink it." She opened the lid and handed it to him. He looked down through the open top, then put it to his lips and downed it quick. It was a bitter taste, nothing like wine, but terrible. Though, despite the bad taste, the painkilling aspect seemed to work rather quickly, as the sharp stings from his bruise were getting less and less prominent till it was just a pain when pressure was applied to it. To this, he sighed in relief. "I'm no doctor, but you might want to take a couple of these Elixirs regularly, to keep the pain from holding you back." Cecelia went ahead and applied cushioned bandaging to his bruise, to keep it from hitting hard objects. She left the scabs alone, but used a bottle of beer as a disinfectant for them, to kill any bacteria that would be growing. The edges of these scabs where the alcohol leaked under had stung, and he hissed. Cecelia went ahead and bandaged them despite the lack of need.

When it was over, Cecelia closed the first aid box and stored it away under the bed, and Corvo was putting back on his jacket. Just as she was leaving through the door, Corvo turned his head and found it reasonable enough to say: "Thanks." She stopped and turned in the door way, her lips apart and eyes wide. She was at a loss for words; possibly because the Lord Protector had finally spoken to her, or that someone finally thanked her in a while, or both. She tried to force a response, but produced only a stutter. "Uh…o-of course…" And she stared a moment at his eyes. He could note a blush that came to her cheeks before she quickly turned and paced away.