MISSING FIGHT STATUS: NOT YET DONE (see "Important Note" for info on that)

Hello my dear readers,

Over one year. Fuck that.

I want to thank all of you to bear with me on the story, though it took me such an incredibly long time to publish this chapter. A lot of things had to be planned and set up, and a certain scene between three certain Archons took me about a month to get right (Thanks, Nuscul, Zuol and Vect! I despise you too!).
I don't want to try and whine to you about my long updating times, since you are the ones waiting, but life has not been too kind to me lately. A lot of things changed, (complete change of jobs and scenerey) and turbulent times bring out the worst in me.

But: I'm back, bitches! :D

So, enough whining.

IMPORTANT NOTE: There is still one fight scene missing, (marked with (...) ) which does not affect the story, as hubby is having a creative block. I could try and write it myself, but I am positive that it wouldn't even be half as good as if he did it, so I will leave it for now and add it later. See the utmost top of this chapter on the status of it, so you don't have to go searching in the chapter.

Good news for everyone who wanted to read the full version, but was too shy to ask: I posted it on Archive of Our Own (AO3), where words like "intercourse" don't get filtered out of PMs and where explicit stories are allowed. :P Have a look if you want, full versions of Chapters 6, 8 and 16 are there to be found.

On that note, please support me on AO3. I will be eternally grateful if you could look at the story on AO3 and leave me a Kudos (which is basically a "Like") on the story, so I can spread it even further! It would be much appreciated, you don't have to have an account there to leave one.

To make the waiting 'till the next chapter shorter, I'd love to know more about you guys, so anyone that has already written some PMs with me, will get a message soon from me. As to the rest: How did you find my story and me? Any roleplayers out there? Other authors? And if not, who are you? Don't be shy. Reach out! I love meeting new people and I don't bite (usually)! :P :)

Huge thanks to all my reviewers. You da real MVPs!

bobshady: Thank you. It makes me proud that you think that way and I shall make it my policy to keep it like that.
CapitalClassShip: Faithful as ever, thank you so much. I am glad that you like the Haemonculi, I enjoyed writing them.
Magnus the red: Thanks. But Temira is not going to be turned into an Eldar.
Guest No. 1.: Thank you!
bigwoof: Thank you. We all know you had a big part in this. ;) I hope you will like how I managed to squeeze your ideas in.
Squee123: Thanks. I still hope that this one was also worth the wait.
Rando65: Thank you for those kind words. :)
Rankorer: Thanks. Me too, me too. ;) And it will take quite some time still, I suppose...
CamilleBC: Thanks for the critical input, I changed the tags on the story. I guess we resolved everything via PMs. Great discussion!
GH: Thank you. I guess the feeling is right, then.
Ronmr: Hehehehe, good to see that I keep you on your toes. Thank you!
Khromys: I would love to have this pair appear more often too, but I fear, it will not be so easy. Also, it makes me happy that my love to detail is noticed! Thank you!
0ldMonk: Thank you! I take great care with getting them across right.
Guest No. 2: Thanks!
Guest No. 3: Wow, thank you, 10/10 ratings always make me very happy. And thank you for your kind words, they really made my day!
Guest No. 4: The rough estimate is that it will be finished at around 26 chapters, so 7 more, from current perspective, but be prepared that it will be a lot more than that. I am bad at giving estimates. ;)

Another heap of thanks go to, as usual, SindelV, my most awesome beta, and bigwoof, my well of ideas. The former is my chaperone in Drukhari ettiquette, the latter gives me all the crazy ideas I do not dare to write, and yet manage to fit them into this lifeblood of mine.
Again, special thanks also to my husband, my one and only constant torch in the darkness, who once more helped with the training and fighting scenes.

Also, people who are familiar with the tabletop will probably immediately realise that the matchup Lelith fights against in this chapter, is, in terms of tabletop-rules, not really a matchup. Let's just say it is one-of-a-kind foe, yes? ;) Stay tuned on that! :D

I know the chapter could be longer considering how long it took me to write, but, as you know, quality is more important than quantity for me. I hope I live up to your expectations, as usual.

Sooo. Much. Politics. To. Consider.

Love,
Shâtî

Chapter 19

A Favour and a Feast

"We own this night, just as we own the fear that runs in your veins.
You may think your numbers protect you, but we shall feast upon your souls before the dawn"
— Kilarq Tongueblade of the Lacerated Eye

A HIT IN THE FACE woke me. I was entirely disoriented and dazed, but not given the time to process what was happening, for I got grabbed by my hair and thrown out of bed.

Someone snarled at me, "What do you think you are doing in bed at this hour?! How dare you disrespect me by being late?!"

I shook my head to clear it quickly, hurried in getting to my hands and knees, and I froze as I saw who was standing over me.

An entirely infuriated Lelith Hesperax.

This. Was. Bad.

I was pretty sure that if I was not to survive until the Carnival, that she would have killed me here and now. Nonetheless, she now would make my life a living hell. Doubly-so than Ailith did, without a doubt.

I bit back all the excuses I wanted to make, because I was pretty sure that she would not be interested in any of them, and simply said, "I am sorry, my lady. It won't happen again."

"Damn right it won't!" she hissed and delivered a kick into my ribs that left me without air and got me sprawling on the floor once more. I instantly realised how terribly strong she was.

I groaned, fighting for air, but, of course, the infuriated Queen of the arenas did not give me any quarter. As I was still pushing against my roiling stomach and dim sight from the concussion, she yanked me to my feet and gave me a push out of the small room that almost had me dropping to the floor once more. Only my enhanced body made it possible for me to recover.

"To the training hall with you! And fast!" she growled at me, pacing towards me, one arm stretched out and her long-nailed index finger pointing towards the direction where the training hall was.

I did not want to find out what she would do to me if she reached me, therefore I ducked and ran.

Luckily, after my prior training under Ailith, the way to the training chambers was etched into my memory and I could clear my head while running there as fast as I could.

Heat and cold flashed through me in equal parts as I realised that I had not come to her and asked her to be trained. Apparently, it had been a mistake to wait with that even for one night, and the Queen had decided to speed things up. My heart beat with excitement and fear, but I noticed that the physical strain on me was next to negligible, thanks to my newly acquired improvements and upgrades.

As I reached the training hall, I realised the subtle differences I had missed with my mundane senses the last time. The hall smelt of blood, but also had a sweet, yet bitter note to it as well, which I had noticed by now around here, almost grassy and comforting in a way. I remembered that I had realised it as the cat-in-the-sun-smell before, but this time, there were more notes and fragrances to it. After I sorted the heavy notes out on my palate, which were the ones I could smell before, something more sinister stayed on my tongue, a bitterness, like heavy wooden rot, that soon overpowered any other subtlety. It made me want to spit out, but, of course, that would only make me look weak and given the hall was probably drenched in the smell, it would have made no difference either way. I entered the hall and started with my basic warm-up routine, stretching and trying to be ready when she arrived.

But then it struck me like lightning.

I had forgotten my daggers in my quarters!

I bolted out of the hall, running back for them, only to be met by a heel kick to my diaphragm. I collapsed like a folding knife, hitting the floor of the hallway hard with my upper left leg and hip. I was so surprised by the event, the pain, the lack of air and my loss of balance, that I had no chance in hell to dampen the fall. As I gasped for air, my sight returned and over me stood she, Lelith Hesperax, with an enigmatic look on her immaculate face.
She sighed, shaking her head, giving her mass of hair a life of its own while I fought back bile and the urge to vomit out my soul. Had her hair always shone so beautifully crimson? Did I perceive it differently because of my new senses? Or had I been too distracted the last time to notice it? "What a waste of my time. The next time, you will be ready when I arrive, or I swear to the Muses, I don't care whose toy you are! Fetch your blades this instant, before I forget myself," she growled at me like a predator who was annoyed with a meal. I bowed my head and wanted to get up and run back to my chambers, only to realise that Hesperax just walked over my hand, painfully forcing tendons and muscle aside. I gasped, but did not dare to exclaim, pushing myself to endure until she stepped off.

I hurried back to my chambers, grabbed my weapons and allowed myself a split-second to think if I had not forgotten something else, but nothing came to mind. I rushed back to the training hall, where Hesperax just seemed to finish her warm-up routine. I was grateful that the pain from the earlier encounter with her had faded mostly. Now I immediately realised the smell of the hall had changed subtly, mingled with Hesperax's scent. She had a note that was almost spicy, but headstrong, intoxicating, yet light. I had never noticed it before, but she even smelt of danger, her scent was like a warning, similar to some animals having a strong colouring to warn off predators. Her smell was doing a good job of that, but not as bluntly. It promised death, but also was so inviting, almost daring, taunting for someone to try to come near and answer the challenge. It was as mesmerising as it was horrifying.
Hesperax was done after a few more seconds and looked at me while she inquired, "What did that cackling heap of walking insanity Rakarth do with you? Or to you… can't be that much, given you seem as useless yet sane as before…"
I swallowed and focused, trying to keep my mind from wandering to the events that I knew made me a quite less sane person and then answered, "Improved senses, agility, strength and regeneration. He also said he essentially optimised my metabolism so I need less sustenance and sleep."
"Figures. Though I am not sure it was worth his time, we can at least agree upon the fact that he made you borderline capable of following even the easiest lessons that I have to offer," she said, like an afterthought, as if I was not even here.
I never noticed before, but now that I could also hear more nuances in Eldar voices, I realised that there was a constant hissing and growling in her voice, even more underlining her predatory nature, faintly shadowed by a deep vibration that tingled my instinct to run away and abandon all hope, crowned by a weird mixture of a motherly, deep voice and a lascivious mockery of the same. Again, it seemed like a predator warning me off and inviting me at the same time.
"Very well, Ailith told me of your minimal abilities, so let's go ahead and figure out what you are actually worth, shall we?" she asked mockingly.
I did not wait, I attacked her, I knew she would not tell me again.
I closed the distance as fast as I could, aiming low, for I knew that trying to strike for anything but the center of mass, would not yield any results, for she would be too quick. I had my daggers shearing towards her from opposite sides, expecting her to dodge out of the attack any moment, but instead, she met me halfway, blocking both my arms with her long, slender hands, while she repeatedly kneed me in the ribs. I did not even feel the impact at first, but then it felt like my ribcage's left side was on fire. The pain was excruciating, but I knew I had to do better than giving up now, so I gritted my teeth and tried to fight through it, feeling the same anger when Ailith had defeated me and mocked me, welling up inside me. If she kicked me, I could do the same, so instead of trying to twist out of her incredibly powerful grip, I aimed my strongest heel kick at her stomach, using her grip to pull her harder towards me while I extended my kick. Alas, I only met air. She had moved aside, still clinging to my left wrist, tugging at it while I stood there on one leg, overextended, and I knew what was coming next. Helplessly, I realised how she kicked my remaining leg away from under me, throwing me belly first to the floor, but I anticipated it, negated the largest part of the impact and tried to turn around, but she was already on top of me, her foot between my left shoulder and my neck, her left hand still on my wrist and she tugged at it really hard. I screamed. It almost felt as if she was taking my arm off. She let me go and sighed, "Why are you not even trying? Why do you give up immediately?" There was anger in her voice, the hiss that had been subtle before was now loud and furious, the growl even deeper and even the slightest refuge of comfort gone from her voice.
"My lady?" I asked in confusion, unable to see what else I could have done. Apparently, this was not what she was waiting to hear. I was almost up when her fist crunched into my cheek, sending me back to the floor again.
"Seriously?" she snarled, voice filled with contempt. "A fight is not over unless it is, meaning it is only ended until one of the participants decides so. Why do you give up as soon as you are hit? Why do you seek comfort and strength in anger, before the fight has ended? Discipline yourself! Emotion is for after the fight, after you have triumphed or you have been beaten, but not before!" she growled at me. The Queen was not even becoming loud, apparently I did not even merit her raising her voice, and still the urge in me to cower in fear was overwhelming.
"I tried to fight back, but you were just too fast!" I said, trying to analyse the fight in my head. I was expecting to be beaten furiously, but she just looked at me, actually surprised.
"Unbelievable. When I thought I had seen all the idiocy in your pathetic kind, one of you manages to still outdo themselves. Do I really have to spell it out for you? You could have jumped out of my leg sweep, used your kick's momentum to twist out of my grip, reposition yourself, cut at my damn hand with your free hand and a hundred other things, but instead, you decided to be forced to the ground and only then you would defend yourself? You mon-keigh are really slaves to your prey-instincts…" she said a lot calmer than before, but still obviously disgusted, "of course, you were taught movements, manoeuvers and attacks, but be creative, you stupid child. Do you really think that anybody will stick to clean, nice moves? Be efficient, be on your toes and adapt to the situation. An experienced enemy will kill you with swift, efficiently executed strikes and counters and use that thick skull of yours against you. Instead of becoming angry at yourself for failing an attack, you should adapt and first of all things, pay attention!" she continued, returning to her former, calm but distanced demeanour. "If you let your enemy do with you what they want and only partially react to that, you will never win against somebody of equal or higher skill than yourself. Stop training to fight the weak and untrained. Look up, if you aim to become better than you are!" she closed, shaking her head while turning around. "Again!" she snarled, looking at me over her shoulder.

Days passed, in which training and pain were my sole purpose. Hesperax became insistent about me learning to adapt to her, switching tactics and combat style every other fight, before she even considered refining my technique or teaching me something new. She was merciless and pain was only one tool in her repertoire to punish me. Food, water, warmth, sleep, all of these were only granted as a reward, for success, discipline and obedience. Hesperax was a lot calmer than Ailith, but also a lot more creative in her cruelty. She punished me with pain only in the heat of the moment, but took her time and resorted to crueler, longer lasting methods of torture for real failure. Though she put me through a kind of hell I had not faced before, I respected her and unlike Ailith, she never resorted to cruelty without reason. It was always clear that it was my failings that merited me torture and deprivation of basic needs, not a mood of hers, which did not mean that she did not enjoy punishing me.

And I was punished a lot in my first week with her.

She would correct me often about my attitude in training, telling me to discipline myself and not resort to anger. I did not get any sleep for days, nor did I get any food and barely enough to drink. I had to sit at the table while others ate, had to look at them, feeling the ever-growing hunger, while having to fight back tears of rage. And after that, instead of sleeping, I was afforded the honour of being subjected to extensive, tormenting training and another round of sleep-deprivation. That was her way for me to learn discipline.

"If you have that little control over yourself, you will learn, in your quarters, at the table, and in the training chamber. That usually gets results quickly," she explained to me, not a shred of compassion or patience in her voice.

This horrible time made days stretch into years and giving up crossed my mind more than once, but I knew it meant nothing short of dying, one way or the other. If Hesperax did not completely lose her temper over me giving up and ending it in a fury, then my master would hear of it and I did not want to know what would happen to me then. Or, rather, I was all too sure what would be up for me then. If he did not tear me apart personally, I would meet Vlokarion again - and he would show me how well integrated the upgrades he got me were and how skilfully he could use them against me.

Yes, the upgrades.

I felt that they were rather a curse than a blessing right now.

I noticed that I did significantly better whilst the deprivation, I still was able to follow Hesperax and fight back after the fifth day, which I never would have been able to beforehand. Also, my regenerative powers helped me through that time. Any small cuts or blunt bruises healed in the few hours the Queen let me be, even though I was not allowed to sleep, which was a lot faster than beforehand. In fact, in the hours she let me rest up, she made me sit on the cold floor in my quarters, all comforts in plain sight, but woe to me if I dared to indulge them.

With the Overlord and Lisbeth on my mind, my two reasons to live, I pushed through hell once more.

Nuscul was uneasy as he arrived at the top of Corespur, since the upcoming audience was organised by Zuol. He did not trust the old beast to even have included him in the meeting with the Overlord. For all he knew, he could be marching to his death, but so it ever was in Commorragh. No smile was to be seen on his face today; he was far too concerned with this audience, and what it would bring for him. For once, he had to take matters seriously, as hard as it was for him, because if he ruined things today, he knew that he would have passed up an opportunity he would not get again. Taking down a Circle member, especially one that was higher ranking than him, was an incredibly rare and precious occasion.

As he arrived in front of the throne room, surrounded by his lifeguard, a view was presented to him that turned his unsmiling expression into a sinister one.

He had expected to meet Zuol up here, in front of the gate, but the other Archon was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he was greeted by a shivering slave, whose expression clearly showed that it wanted to be anywhere else than here, which said to him, "Archon Nuscul, the Overlord awaits you in the Scrying Chamber."

Nuscul barely held back a feral growl, pleasing images of bloody murder flashing through his head, however, he reminded himself of his manners and instead he resorted to directly taking the slave's soul through a soul trap. It was only a small sip of soul energy that flashed through his body as the slave dropped dead on the floor in front of him. Nonetheless, it was just the tiny refreshment he needed right now. He felt his senses sharpen and his mind felt just a tad clearer than before. It was this infinitesimal shift away from death and towards youth that provided for the sharpness he needed right now. Subliminally running one hand through his hair to fix it, he nodded to his lifeguard, who followed him silently, up the smaller winding stairs right of the throne room.

Pleasantries aside, this was bad news indeed.

Talks in the Scrying Chamber usually were those of true gravity. Vect liked to use the room to voice serious reprimands and it was known that important orders to Archons that obeyed him were given there.

So, what did it mean for him? Had Zuol indeed framed him and taken all the credit for himself? Was he truly marching to his death? Had Vect already known about Vyras and was about to scold him for only realising the situation so late?

Running seemed like a wise choice now. But Nuscul knew all too well that no matter where he ran, the Overlord would get him anyway. Besides, this was the choice of a coward, and if he misjudged the situation now, it could ruin everything he had worked for so far.

No. He would face the Overlord and see what it would bring for him.

He was so exquisitely vexed by the sudden change of meeting rooms, because the last time he had been in the Scrying Chamber, the Overlord had led a very serious talk about his behaviour, one, that had made clear to him how close he was to take a long fall down in the hierarchy. This was the reason why he had played so nicely with Sythrac, as he had been very well aware that if he messed this mission up, he was done for. And because of his knowledge how close he had been to biting the dust, he knew how important this opportunity was for him. He was a lot more anxious about Zuol finding a way to stab his back then he let on, but masking one's true thoughts and feelings was a required skill in his position.

With an angry huff, he passed the Overlord's quarters – Nuscul was very well aware that these rooms were just the official version of Vect's quarters and that the tyrant surely resided elsewhere – went through a secret door only very few knew about, along a well-ornate corridor and into the antechamber before the famed Scrying Chamber. This chamber made one feel very much like being on the inside of a cage, because it possessed many slit-like windows, which cast long, narrow shadows into the room. In here, Zuol was already waiting; they had left both of their lifeguards outside.

Zuol greeted him with a sardonic smile and mocked him, "Why so serious, Yevhen? Are you not feeling well?"

The old beast was way too cheerful, which indicated that something was amiss. Nuscul forced a brief, vicious smile onto his features, swallowing down all the feebleness, and snapped, "How come you are so cheerful all of a sudden? Did you get some, for a change?"

That swept Zuol's jovial attitude away, because he immediately turned back into the fierce warrior Nuscul knew so well, and growled, "I don't expect a Halfborn brat like you to understand any of that in the slightest." He huffed disdainfully. "Now is not the time for such useless banter. I already had a talk with the Overlord, take after me and we might get this over with favourable for us."

The younger Archon was satisfied that he had ruined Zuol's mood, yet understood that the older Archon probably had conjured up another topic to get an official audience and that he should keep it down to get what he wanted. Nuscul knew that a betrayal of a Circle member was no small thing, but not important enough alone to merit an official meeting, which was why he left the organisation to Zuol, as little as he liked it, because he knew that the older Archon would have more interesting things to talk about than him. He had no time to ponder the pros and cons of this situation any longer, because at this moment the door to the Scrying Chamber opened and they had to go inside to face the Overlord.

Nuscul disliked the ever-shifting, greenish light in the chamber, which came from the numerous crystals that were aligned in this room. He always wondered how Vect stood this annoying mode of lighting for hours – it always had him on edge, as he expected to be jumped at from the shadows, because for some reason, his dark vision was not entirely working in here. Through these crystals, the Overlord could observe the whole city; they functioned like cameras, only far more complex and giving a much broader view. How they worked and how they were controlled only was known to the Overlord.

In the midst of all these crystals – the Scrying Chamber was a circular dome – a throne was placed, an intimidating piece of furniture, at least for those not accustomed to such sights. And, as expected, on this throne Asdrubael Vect sat, giving them a stare that pierced their minds. Today, the Overlord was clad in ornate robes, and no sceptre was by his side, but woe to those that thought he was unarmed and not wearing any kind of protection in this rather simple apparel.

On the side, Nuscul noticed a slave chained to the throne and recognised her as the replacement for the one that got sent to the Carnival. She was not much of a replacement, and judging from how she looked, the Overlord thought the same.

Now came the part that Nuscul despised the most and which, especially this time, had his heart pounding faster. He cursed himself for his lack of restraint; all this would just weaken his position and might make the Overlord think that what he was about to present to him was nothing but an elaborate hoax, something he could not afford. As it was expected from every Archon that came in here, he had to kneel before Vect, until he either was allowed to get up or he found an untimely death through a hidden blade. Not even the members of the Circle were spared this highly unpleasant experience, but no one was ever safe in Commorragh, especially the highest-ranking Archons, such as himself.

Though it annoyed him immensely that he alone was the one to kneel right now, he understood that Zuol probably already had paid his respects.

"Yevhen. Now that you are finally here, I hope for your sake that what you have to say is worth my time," the Overlord uttered, obviously not convinced.

Though, initially, relief washed over him that seemingly Zuol had not betrayed him, Nuscul felt his palms getting slightly sweaty, yet was very glad that his gaze was currently directed towards the floor. Even though his immediate death was out of the question now, this was no good. Vect already being so disdainful with not even one word uttered from their side usually indicated that he was in no mood for weak auditions.

He had to keep himself from releasing a relieved sigh, as Vect finally said, "Fine. Let me hear it. Get up!"

As he had gotten up, Zuol started by saying, "My lord, we have proof that Vyras is trying to betray you, or, to be more precise, Yevhen provided it, which is why I wanted him here." He kept it as concise as he could, while reducing the whole matter to the part that was interesting to the Overlord.

Nuscul disliked Zuol's play at himself being the one holding the reins in this whole 'investigation', but there was little he could do about it right now.

Slightly raising one eyebrow, Vect replied, "Is that so? If it is true, it is troubling news indeed. What is this proof we are talking about?"

Zuol slightly nodded towards Nuscul, who straightened himself, resisted the urge to clear his throat and said, "Overlord, I have written proof of Vyras's betrayal. He moved great sums around, bribing a bounty hunter in the Carnival to kill your slave against the rules, and was aided by Archon Malys in this endeavour. Furthermore, he tried to frame Aaryn for it, to cause a major disruption in the Circle." He produced a data-pad, suppressing the slight trembling of his hands with all his might. Nuscul cursed himself on the inside because he was so damnably nervous, even though his proof was perfect, and as he stared into the Overlord's eyes, he knew that he did a terribly bad job in hiding it. He could feel that the ancient monster was feeding off his emotions. This would be an expensive day concerning the souls he would need to refill his lost strength.

Vect flashed a smile that could turn blood to ice and took the data-pad. To Nuscul's unending surprise, the Overlord actually had a look at it himself. Nuscul thought his head had to explode from all the concentration he brought up to get the slightest glimpse at what the Overlord might be thinking, but it was just impossible to deduce anything from his expression. It did not take long until he was finished. Vect neither said a word nor portended with any expression what he might be thinking as he passed the data-pad to one of his numerous servants. The sheer suspense of not knowing whether this was good or bad for him, tore Nuscul apart.

As the servant had left, possibly to have the data analysed, a move, which Nuscul had expected, Vect declared in a sardonic tone, "My, my, I never had dreamt that my spymaster would be brought down by the eternal farceur."

While proclaiming surprise, Vect looked so bored that Nuscul had the distinct feeling that Vect knew a lot more than he let on and he felt the dreadful notion that he was running into some kind of trap. He could not tell how this trap would end for him, if it was just a cruel hoax from Vect's side to teach him a lesson or whether it was something far direr. However, there was nothing he could do about it, he had to tough it out and make the best of it. Also, though the statement sounded somewhat favourable for him, he still could not be sure about the Overlord's view on the situation. Since playing it safe without sounding too subservient was the wisest decision right now, he gave back, "Thank you, Overlord." He felt like someone was crushing his spine.

"Hmm, you might even learn some manners after all," Vect quipped, his tone slightly belittling, yet his facial expression made clear that he was not making a quip at all.

Well-timed, without cutting the Overlord off, Zuol interjected from the side, "Might I offer to hunt Vyras down, my lord? After all, he managed to make it personal."

Vect directed his stare towards Zuol, for which Nuscul was grateful. "Considering that a younger Circle member had to provide proof you could not produce, I think it would be only fitting to leave the hunt to Yevhen." Nuscul slightly held his breath as Vect looked at him again. "I presume you are up to the task?"

Nuscul nodded and replied calmly, "Yes, Overlord." Though undertaking this task alone would prove to be severely complicated, it gave him immense joy to see that Zuol was steaming beside him. Zuol was, after all, the second most experienced warrior of the Circle members, and taking that task away from him certainly spoke a very clear language, showing that Vect was displeased with Zuol's failure to expose Vyras himself.

The Overlord seemed to contemplate that for a minute, his gaze absently cutting the air, but then declared, fixating Zuol once more, "On second thought, you, Aaryn, should participate in that hunt too, considering how slippery Vyras can be and you certainly can teach Yevhen a lot in those matters. Make plans together and present them to me when you are done. Since Malys is involved, I want to have a look at this myself. A reminder is in order, as it seems."

Since Zuol prided himself with always looking completely emotionless, it was hard to tell, but Nuscul noticed that Zuol did not like one bit that he now indeed had been ordered to work with him. Malicious glee embraced him warmly. He rarely received the opportunity to have fun with 'his grumpiness'.

Zuol, keeping his composure almost perfectly, nodded stiffly and added in a neutral tone – which, probably, was the best he could muster right now, "Also, if I may, my lord, I would like to suggest that Yevhen should move up in ranks after this is over. He is, after all, the one that pinned down this treason."

"Are you feeling adventurous today, Aaryn?" Vect grumbled, making it clear that he disliked Zuol's intrusion into what was within his power alone. "I will decide this. The outcome will depend on how good your combined plan will be." He turned towards Nuscul. "You might want to give that strategy a good, hard thought, to produce some usable input. Go!"

Though Nuscul despised that Zuol was to stay and he was not, he was wiser than voicing any resistance, bowed to his Overlord and left the chamber. This had gone alright, but not too well. But, at least, Zuol had held up his part of the deal. Whether Vect would deign to give in to it, was in the stars, and as it stood, those stars were not too well-aligned for him.

Heart beating fast and brooding, he returned to his part of Corespur. Though his mind was already set on producing a sound strategy, the hunger dimmed his thoughts. Vect had torn quite a lot away from him, he was always ravenous for the slightest shred of soul energy. It was high time for a meal.

Besides, he could only hope that Zuol would not betray him now.

As soon as the young Archon had left, the tension between the two remaining ones was still palpable.

Zuol bit back all those emotions of weakness that were coursing through his body, and while being much more adept at it than Nuscul, he was well aware that his level of self-composure was not enough to fool the Overlord. Though Zuol had been in his position for a long time, since subtly beating Sythrac in any way was far too arduous and dangerous, and dethroning Vect a fool's errand, he never had mastered the art of deciphering what his lord actually might be thinking. Then again, nobody had mastered that so far, so the shame was not too great. His senses told him that he was in slight danger, but then again, something was off, as his instincts told him.

He was about to directly ask Vect what kind of trouble he was in for his bold suggestion, as trying to flee from responsibility and its repercussions was not in his nature, but in this second the Overlord started to laugh darkly.

Releasing his slightly held breath slowly and inconspicuously, Zuol bared his fangs for a fierce smile. Good. So he had not lost his edge entirely.

"Just when I start to ask myself why I allowed young Yevhen into the Circle, he manages to remind me how entertaining I find toying with him. So bold on one side, so scared on the other. I wonder which side will win, eventually," Vect mused.

"He lacks restraint," Zuol grated.

Vect grinned. "Indeed. I know how much you hate working with him. However, this time, you brought this on yourself and you deserve some penalties for letting Vyras frame you so expertly."

"Of course, my lord," Zuol gave back, taking the scolding without the slightest flicker of fear.

"After you are done planning, let me know what Yevhen contributed to the plan. If the cub is not doing his part, then he will not move one millimetre further in ranks," Vect stated.

"I shall, my lord. But, if I may ask: who would be a candidate for the open position, then? Ea'nash certainly has not been interested in much else than his bedchambers as of late, I am pretty sure that Atanel would be wildly unsuited as spymaster and Tahril simply lacks the experience in these ranks to function properly," Zuol wondered.

"Every master has a student," Vect simply said.

"Cor'ech, then," Zuol nodded. It took him only a second to understand what this meant. "I see. You'll make an example of Vyras, while making very clear to his former Hierarch what will be his gain if he should follow in his footsteps," Zuol replied swiftly.

"Precisely," Vect concurred.

Zuol smiled. "I am looking forward to it."

Vect nodded. "Since this is settled, now to something entirely different. I want to talk about our bet." His tone was absolutely sincere and his stare was as cold as ever.

Zuol once more kept a blank face, though he did not feel like it, and retorted, "I sincerely hope that it was understood as it was meant: a means to put pressure on the slave."

Vect had toyed with him again, for he smiled, "After all this time, you still manage to jump head over heels into such an obvious trap. If you only were as half a politician as you are a warrior, Aaryn…" He shook his head. "No matter. I was perfectly aware why you did it and that even you, with your lacking political skills, would not be stupid enough to challenge me in such a dim-witted manner. It was a quaint idea; she ate it up nicely and it certainly made her work hard."

"From what I've seen, she is actually using quite a lot of brains in the preparations and hides her skill," Zuol added.

"Which is exactly why I have chosen her. Brains will be needed in this contest," Vect said.

"Why are we actually playing to win this time? So far, the Black Heart has not had any interest in winning the Carnival," Zuol wondered.

Vect smiled. "Today, I already enclosed enough of my thoughts to you, Aaryn. This I keep for myself." That, of course, meant that he should not dare to ask again.

Zuol, however, found that Vect was in a rather peculiar mood today, very playful and strangely generous. The Overlord being too benign usually was reason to be concerned. Zuol had been surprised that Vect was inclined towards being lenient with Nuscul, as he had not rejected his proof and claim for the seat immediately, as the latter had angered him on several occasions in recent times. The old warrior could not shake the feeling that there was far more to the Vyras situation than Vect let on, and that there would be some reckoning to be had before this was over. He had to tread carefully.

"Is there anything else you need of me, my lord? Otherwise, I'd like to suggest that I get to planning. Outmatching Vyras and Malys is no small feat after all and I expect little ingenuity from Yevhen," Zuol stated stiffly.

"No, you may go, Aaryn. I am looking forward to your results," Vect declared.

"Of course, Overlord. It shall be done," Zuol replied, bowed and left the Scrying Chamber with a sinister expression.

Devising this strategy would be exceedingly taxing, to put it mildly.

The first meal after five days felt like a feast, although it was the same bland, basic, mushy mess I had every single time and I was extremely careful to eat as slowly as possible, or else Hesperax would find it as a lack of restraint and a good reason for her to prolong my 'discipline training'. After five more days, I earned back the basic comforts that even a slave would miss, should they be stripped of them, so I washed myself the first time after ten days into training with Hesperax, and finally slept after two more. By now, it truly felt like ages since the last time I had some proper rest. I realised with confusion that apparently three hours of sleep were enough for me at that time, even though I was sure that not even a beating could have woken me up on the first night. Also, going without sleep for such a long time had done something to my circadian rhythm, because I always was awake when I was supposed to and never overslept ever again.

Hesperax was… adapting to my 'progress', saying she was happy about it would have been a bold lie, but at the very least, she was acknowledging the fact that there was actual progress.
To my great surprise, after what was a month since I had started training under her, she started to correct my posture and technique, teaching me subtle tricks to shift my weight around enemies, not allowing my momentum to be used against me. She called it 'skindancing', essentially reading your opponent's movement and never going out more in terms of strength than was needed to deal significant damage, rendering even a skilled opponent's defensive movements largely useless, while simultaneously focusing on your own defensive manoeuvers, goading your opponent into overextending themselves. It greatly reminded me of videos of boxers and martial artists from earth, who had learned to dodge so efficiently that even hitting them might lower the impact of an attack to such an extent, that no damage was dealt while opening the opponent's guard.

The Queen taught me how to stab, cut and twist with a dagger that even an opponent with superior reach could be bled out while trying to defend themselves. Also, the visceral, ugly, closer-than-skin side of dagger combat was taught to me, which meant a lot of grappling and simply trying to find a way to push or pull a blade where it would yield maximal results. It was not pretty, it was not clean and it was not easy.

Also, Hesperax found a very mean way to test whether my discipline training had been adequate. As I came into the hall after quite some time under her supervision, I found her not alone in the hall, but I met someone I had hoped to never see again, yet somehow also wanted to meet again, just to finish one thing: killing her. Of course, it was Ailith, who greeted me with her sardonic smile. Immediately, the anger flared back up in me and the urge to jump at her and slice her open was almost overwhelming. However, as little as I liked it, if I showed that lack of discipline, Hesperax would surely find another way to torture the hell out of me for being such a terrible student. Therefore, I bit back all the emotions, kept my face blank and greeted them both as it was appropriate.

A short, rare smile could be seen on the Queen's face, enough pointer for me to understand that I had passed her test. "Ailith will be watching today, to see how you handle a distraction whilst fighting," she said.

And so it happened.

I could not deny that I wanted nothing more on this day but to 'accidentally' tumble in the wrong direction and give Ailith some wounds to remember me by. But I knew that this was the nature of the test and I did not intend to fail it.

Hesperax had Ailith come back in irregular intervals, just to have her presence nag at me, but this time I stayed strong.

Just when I thought I had escaped her creative torments, I arrived in the training hall one day, where I found twelve slaves lined up against the wall on the side of the chamber and next to them, once more Ailith, yanking their chains. I tried to convince myself that there was another reason for these slaves to be here, but I guessed the terrible reason why. They were old, scarred, broken and pretty much useless in terms of currency or enjoyment here in Commorragh. At least that was what I assumed, I never had completely understood at what point nothing more could be gained from a tortured human, even though my master had explained it to me. Hesperax did not say anything to me, she smiled, had Ailith free the first slave and toss a dagger into the middle of the room.

"Whoever kills her, goes free," she said to the slaves, who were wide-eyed with fear and disbelief. The first slave, an old man, with skin so thin as if it were parchment and dread in his bright blue eyes, stumbled for the dagger.

My mind was racing. I tried to convince myself that they would die soon anyway, even with me refusing to be their executioner and that my punishment would be severe to a degree I could not even anticipate if I did not comply. As soon as the old man reached the dagger, Ailith uttered her wicked cackle and Hesperax shouted, "Go ahead, show what you have learned! Put everything to good use with enemies that are afraid for their lives! And don't make it quick! Try everything!"
With sweaty palms and a fast-beating heart, I tried to mentally settle with the fact that I would kill for the first time. Right here, right now.

How to prepare for such an occasion?
The answer was simple: it was impossible.

I did as I was ordered, out of sheer terror of what would happen if I disobeyed. I was trying to keep myself from showing or feeling any emotion, knowing that she would punish me even for that, but how could I not feel sorry for them? They were nothing but afraid, and I had to make their ends miserable and cruel.

Then again...

Would they not do the very same if our places were reversed? I had nothing but my survival and I would be damned if I did not fight for that last thing that was mine!

Here I was a good slave.

In the Imperium, I was a useless traitor.

Yes, my survival was the last of my possessions.

No, not mine.

His.
Filled with hateful determination, the hatred I had nurtured over the course of the last year, I rushed the old man, used my left arm to lock his elbow and keep his dagger away from me and then rammed the dagger in my right hand between his shoulder and collarbone, twisted it, and pulled out, kicking him sideways into his right knee, tearing tendons and dislocating his kneecap. His dagger clattered over the floor while he tried to scream, clawing at his throat as he was suffocating, mewling instead. I knew I had popped his pleural cavity, the panic and the pain did enough for him to black out, but I knew I had to make sure he was dead. I stepped closer again, overstretched his neck with my left and cut through the entire front half of his neck with the dagger in my right, allowing him to bleed out in a matter of seconds. It was done and I felt this cold sensation sinking into my belly that someone got when they knew something horrible was about to happen.

I just wanted this nightmare to end.

Before my mind could latch itself onto the fact that I had just ended a life, I heard Ailith's cackle haunting my thoughts, realising she was already freeing the next slave. I took a deep breath and steeled myself.

The nightmare had just begun.

I maimed, gutted, exsanguinated, tore, ripped and shredded broken, burnt-out slaves for the next two weeks, and was punished - extensively as well as creatively - for not displaying my entire repertoire, just to learn how to kill and lose any and all inhibition for taking a life.

No, not taking a life.

It was losing all second thoughts for creatively taking a victim apart, concentrating my entire existence on the bringing of pain and torture. I learned to cut into them, to know every structure, every tissue and how it behaved under my hand and blade. Even though I did not get punished, I did not get much necessary sleep as my dreams were reigned by exposed viscera, pleas for mercy and horrid screams of maimed slaves that I had to murder by the dozen for over a week now. I knew why this had to happen. I knew I had to be able to swiftly and without hesitation or mercy kill anybody by the cruelest means necessary, as, in the Carnival, others would do the same, and my life depended on it.

I wanted to throw up when I thought about how much Hesperax and Ailith enjoyed my torment. I saw it especially when I looked at Ailith, she relished it every time when a small part of me died with every one of my victims.

But the training had to continue. I had to carry on.

Eventually, I was instructed on how to handle multiple opponents and with it, I got permission to use the poison on my daggers for the first time. Then, they threw multiple slaves at me, who fought with pure desperation. They watched me as I cut my way through them, covered in my own and their blood, sliding through viscera and innards, and burying all the anguish deep down in my soul, as there was simply no time to face it.

As expected, the first time the poison connected with a living being, it tore yet once again more away from my humanity. Apparently, it was a toxin that induced intense pain. Though most of the slaves I fought were crippled by it, a few, probably those left with a shred of strength and restraint, were merely quite slowed down by it, and I figured that a healthy, strong enemy also would not be entirely incapacitated, but probably slowed down for that amount that made otherwise impossible fights manageable. I guessed a stronger poison would have been too much of a favour, but it certainly was something that would work for my fighting style, especially because I was not limited to a finite amount of doses. Yaelindra, and, unfortunately, Ea'nash, had done well for me.

Finally, murdering others had merited everything there was to learn from feeble burnouts, so my training consisted solely by fighting Hesperax again, trying to learn from my mistakes, becoming faster every week, but still unable to even nick her immaculate skin. I got punished less and less, it only happened when I was not focusing. The weeks flew by and eventually, months, in which Hesperax corrected me less every week. I guessed she had taught me everything I could learn as a mere human, so the rest of my time with her was merely used to improve agility, speed and reflexes and to cement everything I had learned, to apply it subconsciously and at a moment's notice. I became a killing machine, all that I learned eventually was converted to muscle memory, ready to be employed at the slightest threat, no matter if I was aware or awake, without hesitation or remorse.

Yet, it never was enough to even scrape the perfect beauty of Lelith Hesperax.

Hyperventilating, heart pounding and head spinning Lisbeth awoke. As she opened her eyes, she realised that she was lying on the bed. Senses only awaking distressingly slowly, she hazily thought that there were only very rare occasions when she was allowed in the bed.

As she awoke fully, she winced, as she realised that she was not alone. Beside her sat her master and prime tormentor, Asdrubael Vect, smiling viciously down on her, as he did so often. He was clad in a black robe.

"Well, well, well," he said, "someone eventually understood what it means to be obedient." He stretched luxuriously, like an overly-agile cat. His smile deepened as he was done. "About time."

"M… my lord?" Lisbeth asked confused. She was not sure what he was talking about.

"Do you remember what you dreamt about, my child?" he asked her, his tone relaxed, something that confused her greatly. Also, it was a rare occasion he actually called her 'child'.

"My dream?" Lisbeth mused and stared into thin air for a while. It took her some time, but then she remembered some bits of it. What she remembered, she did not particularly fancy, as it involved a lot of scenes of submission and obedience towards him. "But… that was just a dream."

"Just a dream, hmm? Think again, child," Vect said. Lisbeth was highly confused by the missing edge in his tone.

Lisbeth's mind was racing. She was so afraid to fail him now. Slowly, it all came back to her, and though she was safe for now, the dread of it came back to her too. Yes, her dreams, the last, tiny shred of privacy she had had, and he had taken it from her too, inducing artificial dreams with drugs and somehow tapping into them and watching them. He now was with her all of the time, even when she was sleeping.

Now she understood why he was pleased.

She had succumbed to him in her dreams. The final threshold. Her subconscious.

And though the thought horrified her, it was good this way, the occasions when she outright pleased him, without any kind of bitter taste, were rare enough. Therefore, though she felt like ice inside, she continued her streak of obedience, smiled faintly and said, "Of course, Overlord, I remember now."

"Good. Now, where were we?" He pretended to recollect his memory, slightly raising one eyebrow, a thing, as Lisbeth knew, he had no need of, he just liked to do it for effect. "Ah, yes! Your deferent, subservient dream. I have to say, if you manage to make this behaviour reality, you might even get more than a slight break in a while, my little one. Is that not a pleasing notion?"

"I… I guess so, my lord," Lisbeth answered. What was wrong with him? Why was he so gentle all of a sudden? She enjoyed that he was not fierce for once, but it confused her greatly and made her wary. Still, she direly needed the break, so she would take what she could get.

"Very good, my pet. I am intrigued to see what you will make of that lesson," Vect stated and got out of bed.

Lisbeth got out of bed too, frightfully remembering what he had done to her the last time she had dared to stay in bed when he had gotten up.

Smiling like a cat that had just found a bucket of milk, he stated, "Would you look at that! You even start remembering the rules!" His words dripped with mockery.

Close to tears, because she was so happy that she finally managed to do some things right, she replied, "I am trying my very best, Overlord." Lisbeth jumped at her last thought. It was not like she had failed all the time, in fact, there had been quite some occasions when she had served him to his satisfaction, but he made it sound like it was the bare minimum that kept him from outright killing her. Since she had no one else to turn to, or too little occasion to do so, she now frightfully realised that she started to believe it herself. However, the realisation now strengthened her resolve. She forbade herself to fall to insanity. She would use every break he gave her. Feeling strong for once, felt good.

Vect chuckled softly. "Of course, you are," he said. He moved over to the well-laid table, leaving her standing somewhat lost beside the bed, and poured himself a cup of wine. Lisbeth realised in those moments that it was the first time in god-knows-when that she could watch him without any nagging feeling of dread – and found it actually pleasing.

He took a sip from the platinum-lined metal cup and looked at her over his shoulder. "Then again…" he started, his tone still soft, his expression unreadable.

Lisbeth looked at him, completely out of sorts. As so often, she had no idea what he would do next.

Vect took a deep breath through closed teeth, sounding very much like he was regretting something – which he certainly was not. Regret was not a feeling that was found in his emotional landscape. "Then again," he repeated, "all this reviewing of your dreams made me feel quite peckish…" He trailed off, staring into nothingness, all of a sudden looking like his age. Lisbeth was not sure whether it was the light that now drew deep wrinkles and shadows on his face, or if he really had aged since the last time she had the opportunity to look closely at him.

Lisbeth smiled nervously, all of a sudden not so sure anymore if she really was safe. "Then, perhaps, you would like to eat, my lord?" she said, her voice sounding very thin all of a sudden.

The Overlord slightly wagged his head, without moving his trailed-off gaze. Something in the picture gave Lisbeth a cold feeling in her stomach. "Oh, child, it is not a hunger any physical food can still," he patiently explained to her, "additionally, it will take some hours until Vlokarion has prepared a satisfying repast for me." His gaze fell unto her; the look in his eyes now had the fixating quality of a hawk's stare. "Which only leaves one convenient option."

That was a lie, and they both knew it. He had a lot of slaves to torture at his immediate disposal.

Lisbeth's eyes widened and she wanted to back away from him as he walked towards her. However, in her panic, she forgot about the bed in her back and fell clumsily onto it. As he towered over her, his cold stare promising her nothing but torment, she pleaded, tears in her eyes, "My lord, please, spare me! I have been good!"

With an abhorrently cruel smile on his features, he said, "Indeed, you were." However, that did not stop him from letting his long, elegant fingers slide into her copper mane and continuing, "Now, come here, my little morsel." Abruptly, he pulled her upwards, dragging her to her feet again. Lisbeth received this treatment with a pained yelp. Without paying attention to that, he forced her to follow him into his private torture chamber, coldly ignoring her struggling, crying and begging.

It did not take long until her pleading was stopped by screams.

"This is it," the Queen smiled, "I taught you everything I could. Our time is up."

"Thank you, my lady. I don't mean to sound preposterous with that, but I am now a lot surer that I will bring the usual victory for the Black Heart and to please the Overlord with it. I am grateful for how well you have taught me," I said truthfully. Though she certainly had put me through a special kind of hell, somehow I could not despise her as I did with Ailith. She was the mistress, the Queen, the absolute, concerning the arts of the blade, and therefore, she had every right to do to me whatever she saw fit to educate me.

Hesperax tilted her head, her eyes slightly narrowed. "Usual victory? What are you talking about?"

I blinked in confusion. "Well… um… I've been told that the Black Heart usually wins the Carnival and it was doubted that I could live up to those standards."

The Queen started to laugh full-heartedly at that. She needed a while to calm down again, while leaving me standing in utter confusion.

"My… lady…?" I asked carefully.

"Who told you this nonsense?" she asked, still smiling widely.

"Archon Zuol mentioned it, whilst being concerned that I might not live up to it," I answered.

"And let me guess… the Overlord has done nothing to disturb that notion?" she questioned me further.

"No, my lady," I gave back.

Hesperax chuckled once more. "I hate to break this to you, little one, but you have been hoaxed. The Black Heart usually cares very little about the Carnival, in fact, they send slaves that prove to be entertaining for the crowd, but not fit to win."

My heart pounded faster at her words. What did that mean for me? Had my master just sent me here to die? Had all my efforts been in vain? Had I done something to anger him so severely that he wanted to get rid of me in this very elegant manner? Why the lies? It made no sense!

The panic had to be apparent on my face, and I was sure that my feelings were quite delicious for her, because she watched me silently.

I closed my eyes and shook my head, calming myself down again with some deep breaths. This train of thought would lead me nowhere but to possible, final punishment for my lack of discipline. I had to ponder this for myself for a while.

"Huh. Seems as if my training has come to fruition after all. Most would have lost it at the thought of being just an expendable asset," the Queen stated.

I smiled coldly. "I have come so far, I might at least try it for real."

She let out a contemptuous grunt. "Still, if you think that this victory will be something to truly please the Overlord, you are in for a nasty surprise."

Now my smile grew confident. "I'm aware that it is next to nothing to him. But it might just be that minimal advantage, that slight pleasing quality in me that will give me some more time of survival."

Hesperax's expression was quite placid all of a sudden. "You certainly have learned your lessons." She stared into nothingness shortly, then said, "Oh, speaking of the Overlord – it is a shame that I haven't seen him for quite a while. Seems as if your replacement requires a lot of attention. From what I gather, she is not doing too well."

Did everyone in this goddamn city know about Lisbeth and me? However, I bit back the questions I wanted to ask; I wanted to show as little as I could how much I cared. Therefore, I tried to change the subject by asking, "My lady, since our time is up now, if I may ask, what will happen next?"

She seemed to care as little as she let on, because she instantly climbed in on the topic. "You are going to…" she enjoyed drawing out the pause and leaving me hanging, "take a break, until the festivities start."

I looked at her, doubting the truth of her words, expecting a trap.

Her smile deepened. "So suspicious, little one? I guess I can't blame you." She shook her head. "But suspicion is ill-placed this time. All contestants get a break before the festivities and the Carnival. We want you to be well-rested and at the peak of your strength before we watch you bashing each other's heads in."

"I see," I commented.

"Alright, then. You will be picked up once the time is ripe for the preparations. Go and enjoy your break! You'll need it," the Queen said.

I bowed to her. "Thank you, my lady." With that, I left my training lesson for the last time.

The moment I was back in my quarters, I banged my fist against the wall and cursed wholeheartedly.

It was how I had feared it – Lisbeth did not do well. She was doomed, I had felt it all the time! She simply was not fit for this kind of pressure and it did not surprise me. That Hesperax now had confirmed it, willingly or not, tore me apart. Yet, as so often, there was nothing I could do about it. I just hoped that I would see her at the festivities, that I at least could support Lisbeth somewhat there.

Could I even support her anymore? I had changed so much in this last year. I had lost so much of my humanity, I had gained skills most humans would deem terrible and it had cost me dearly. When I closed my eyes, I saw the faces of those I had killed, torn in agony, the life leaving pleading eyes, the dead bodies I had stepped over,...

I ran away from the painful memories once more, and once more found that it was far too easy to drown the emotions. Either I had become exceedingly good at it, or my emotions were slowly dying. I had no way of knowing. Everything felt somehow… numb.

The next thing that greatly bothered me was the truth about the Kabal of the Black Heart and its relationship to the Carnival. That I survived the Carnival was not entirely likely, and now that I knew that the Black Heart usually just sent entertaining slaves into it to die, just made me a lot more unsure of myself, though I knew I had gotten the best out of the favours. It made me feel much worse and confused, because I did not understand why I had been lied to in that regard. What had Zuol tried to accomplish with it? And why had the Overlord done nothing to dismiss the lie? What had I done so severely wrong that I deserved extra pressure?

Why - it was the question of losers and the one slaves only at the rarest of occasions got answered around here.

"You have to be content with simply not knowing and understand that not everything needs an explanation."

Vlokarion's words echoed in my mind. They had so much gravity, it hurt my head. And yet, once more, he had done me a favour by saying them.

As it seemed, I got the break I needed. Yet, it would still be filled with worrying, fighting my own demons, so many things to dread and so many questions left unanswered.

I realised that the hardest test in this break would be not to let doubts overwhelm me.

Archon Aaryn Cra'ozamahr Zuol marched through the corridors of one of the transports that ferried citizens between the main city of Commorragh and the satellite realms. His face was drawn into a sinister scowl, his stare cold as dry ice. He was adorned in his armour and surrounded by the two Incubi, who were the best of his lifeguard. Though he was one of the most capable warriors in Commorragh, it was always wise to have reinforcements and it also was a sign of status that he would not hide. He did not have a hard time keeping this bitter expression, for two reasons.

One was the place Nuscul had deemed appropriate to talk to him. Zuol was aware that he had chosen the place just to spite him, as the ship he was on was not only a transport, but also a pleasure palace. Every indecent proposal was made here, be it sex, alcohol, drugs or other, more exquisite desires. Zuol felt thoroughly misplaced, as he had lost his interest in such things a long time ago. Age made one of his kind absolutely jaded, and the things that enticed him could not be found in a place such as this. This was another thing that spoke for his lifeguard - any unwanted advances were shut down before they could even come to fruition, in the form of lethal punishments. It was better this way, otherwise, he would have left a trail of writhing, broken bodies. The longer he stayed here, the more his urge to go on a rampage grew.

But, rampages were for the undisciplined mind, and that he was not.

Teeth-gnashing, he also had to admit that, though, of course, the place was undoubtedly chosen to annoy him, there was also some tactical thought behind it. Just hauling him onto a pleasure transport without any reason would have made massive suspicion arise, so Nuscul came up with an official justification for it. Nuscul had invited most of the Circle members to one of the Satellite Realms which belonged to the Kabal, to discuss a big-scale raid with massive opportunity for slaves and riches. Things had worked perfectly for him, since, of all people, Sythrac had agreed to come, which gave Zuol the perfect reason to be there as well. Where his biggest rival tread, he had to tread too, if Vect's word did not prohibit it. The transport just led to their meeting place, and, since an official reason for their presence was given, a small meeting between the two of them would surely be of no concern.

That Sythrac and Nuscul had grown so close, figuratively speaking, over the course of their last raid, also was something Zuol took notice of, since it was a reason for him to be concerned. That the old general suddenly leant towards the youngster could mean future trouble for him, but also confirmed that what he thought about Nuscul was accurate. Sythrac had always had an eye for talent, and if he showed interest in someone, that one was usually worthy of keeping an eye on. Zuol knew he had to be wary and stay alert. If Sythrac backed Nuscul at some point against him, it could have dire consequences. He would carefully observe Nuscul and call Sythrac out about it at some point. That was how he always had done it with the Soul Hunter and so far, they had settled their score directly, without the need for subtle backstabbing and without the Overlord needing to know it.

The other reason that made him glare with murderous intent, was that he did not look forward one bit to what he now had to do. But, as it was expected of him, he would obey without a word of defiance – he had dug this hole for himself, now he had to face the consequences. Anything else did not befit him as the fiercest warrior of the Kabal of the Black Heart. Without a doubt, the Overlord just made him forge plans with Nuscul together, because he knew how little he liked him, not because he would need Nuscul's help. Still, thus were the small, humiliating games the tyrant enjoyed so much, therefore, it was best not to spoil his fun.

Nonetheless, there was something neither the Overlord nor Nuscul knew. Zuol was fairly sure about both. That the Overlord was none the wiser was convenient; that Nuscul was oblivious, was important. He disliked the young Archon far less than he let on, and he would do everything in his power to keep it that way. Sure, Nuscul's eternal jovial and frivolous attitude certainly was annoying, but he was far less infuriated by it than he showed. The young one should think that he had him on the brink of frothing rage all the time, so that he underestimated his clarity and calmness of mind. It was necessary, because Zuol knew what a capable warrior looked like. After him and – as little as he liked to admit it – Sythrac, Nuscul was the third-best warrior in the Circle. His style was different and he lacked experience, yes, but if he survived up to his age, he would be a force to be reckoned with. Therefore, having the youngster underestimate him, would be one of his biggest advantages.

Having the training of an Incubus certainly had its merits. A rare, satisfied smile could be seen on Zuol's face.

Also, there was still the issue of what Vect was planning, and, as usual, it was the most dangerous variable of this whole situation. Of course, the Overlord was planning something all the time, but in this particular case, Zuol could smell the rat, but could not point out what it looked like. There would be some kind of reckoning before this was over, surely for Vyras and most likely for Malys too. He himself already got to taste that there was a deserved scolding at hand, apart from the one he already had gotten. He just wrecked his head over the question of how Nuscul fit into the picture. What the young Archon had found out had been awfully resourceful – not a trait which he had shown before – and he had handled it very well, which showed surprising instinct. Yes, he was a member of the Circle, those were skills that each and every one of them had to display anyways, Zuol was just surprised by the level of those skills Nuscul had demonstrated, even though he held the fifth position in the Circle. So far, Zuol had attributed Nuscul's relatively high position to his close ties to the Cult of Strife, but this incident had taught him otherwise. Underestimating an opponent was always a stupid mistake and he was angry at himself for letting it happen in this case.

Then again, for all his instinct, Nuscul had been so terribly nervous in front of the Overlord, so unrestrained, so vulnerable. Zuol suspected that he was desperate for this chance; apparently, he had made one jest too many in the Circle meetings and displeased the Overlord. A foolish and dangerous mistake. Well, that he had been summoned to the Scrying Chamber alone, not too long ago, spoke its own language.

That fact could make this all too enjoyable for him, even if he had to be wary. He just had to see how well Nuscul bore the responsibility.

Now he had reached the main hall of the palace, and with it, the place where they would meet. A mixture of all the sins provided could be found here, and it made Zuol sigh deeply. Finding Nuscul in here would be arduous…

A soft, melodious voice touched his ears and immediately caught his attention, "Archon Zuol?"

He turned his head to see who had talked to him, and found that it was a Drukhari slave girl, which had, as it was custom, bowed down, and now remained with a downcast look. "What is it?" he barked at her, unmoved by her beauty.

"Archon Nuscul sends his regards. I am here to lead you to him," she said.

"Very well," Zuol gave back and motioned to his lifeguard.

The girl led them to a calmer corner of the room, which was composed of booths and private rooms. She halted in front of one of the rooms, but it was unnecessary, as the warriors that waited around in front of it were easily recognisable as Nuscul's lifeguard.

The slave made an inviting gesture towards the door, and Zuol rushed by her, storming the room in his usual, stern pace.

The chamber itself was – as expected from such a place – luxurious, well-decorated and comfortable. The room was fitted with all kinds of different furniture, to accommodate all kinds of different needs and the air told the story of past, numerous excesses. Nuscul received him, of course, smiling, lounging in one of the armchairs found in here, arms crossed in front of his chest, feet crossed over on a small stool, which seemed to belong to the armchair. His smile widened as he beheld Zuol and he quipped, "Ah, the most venerable Aaryn Cra'ozamahr Zuol! It's about time you showed up, I have so much to tell you!"

It did not escape Zuol that Nuscul had left out his title on purpose, but he decided not to give him such an easy victory. "So good to see you too, Yevhen, though I question the choice of… accommodations," he said with a falsely sweet tone.

"I knew you would! However, after this, I am going to need a break before the next meeting, and this is the perfect place for it," Nuscul chuckled cheerfully.

Zuol narrowed his eyes and, ignoring Nuscul's last remark, he hissed, "Also, just because I have been ordered to work with you does not mean that you can command me around like one of your lackeys. I will come when I want to come, and not a second earlier."

Nuscul bared his teeth with a broad grin, swung his feet from the stool, sat straight up, held up his hands in a calming gesture and said, "Calm down, old-timer, I was not questioning your skills in the bedchamber."

Of course, Nuscul would take the bait. Letting him win, Zuol rolled his eyes, huffed and said, "Can we cut the usual banter for once? I think even you understand that if we mess this up, we are both in trouble."

Nuscul sighed deeply and nodded. "I suppose you are right. Let me show you what I have thought up so far."

Zuol seated himself and looked intently at Nuscul.

The younger Archon straightened himself and said, "Anything to drink? Or does that clash with your weird code of honour?"

Smiling at Nuscul in a placid manner, Zuol gave back, "No, it doesn't."

Running one hand through his hair, Nuscul signalled his guards outside to let the slave girl inside. They ordered their drinks, Zuol observed Nuscul intently. His joyless smile deepened. He was right. Nuscul was still nervous. Terribly so. He needed this to succeed.

Now it was his time to have fun. "Tsk, tsk, Yevhen… why so nervous?"

"Nervous? You should either stop taking whatever you take or do a lot more of it," Nuscul retorted, just a tad too quick.

Zuol decided to acknowledge his own victory with a knowing stare and a fiendish grin. "So? You said, you have something to tell me? I am waiting."

Nuscul put a small holoprojector on the table between them, with sharp movements, yet still smiling – Zuol could tell that he was angry – and when he pressed a small button on the device, a tactical holo-map grew out of it, which showed Vyras's demesne of Corespur. Zuol instantly could see the work Nuscul had done so far and understood his reasoning, but he let him explain.

It was a good plan, unexpected manoeuvres, a lot of traps and it forced Vyras's forces perfectly into a corner. Of course, he would not show that to Nuscul in the slightest. He would let him squirm.

Zuol said, after taking a relished sip from his cup, which had been delivered in the meantime, "Not an entire failure. At least for a completely oblivious beginner."

Nuscul snapped, the smile wiped from his face, "What?"

The older Archon shifted delightfully in his chair. He had hoped that he could school the youngster, and now he got his chance. "Oh? I thought I was clear? My bad," he said, letting all the enjoyment vibrate in his voice. Gesturing with the hand that held the cup at the projection, he explained, "Well, the tactical plan itself is not too terrible, but you missed one major thing." He drew out the pause with pleasure, leaving Nuscul to stew. "How will the punishment of Malys be commenced?"

"I figured this would be the Overlord's business, considering that he already had a talk with her," Nuscul answered, muscles tensed up.

Zuol scoffed. "Wrong. He had that talk to make clear to her that she better plays nice. Now it is up to us to execute his will." He smiled sardonically, taking another sip. "So, think, pretty boy, and think fast, because we don't have a lot of time to do so."

"What are you here for then, anyway? So far, you have contributed nothing to the plan, you have only bitched about it and your head is on the line as much as mine," Nuscul snarled.

Zuol smiled complacently, as he knew all too well that his head might be on the line, but by far not as much as Nuscul's, and got up in one fluent movement, stating calmly, "I just saved you from running into a trap. If that is not enough for you, then I will take my leave and wait for you to come to your senses." He turned to leave, taking his time, giving Nuscul enough time to think and react.

As he had almost reached the door, the young Archon said, "Wait! Listen to this, I think I have the perfect idea."

As so often in my life in Commorragh, I was on the brink of freaking out. The festivities were at hand, and, soon after them, the Carnival. I noted with a sour mood that I still did not know when exactly the Carnival would start. This secret was kept closely and it worried me what it could mean. But at least they had been generous enough to warn us three days in advance before the festivities were at hand.

Though it now had been two weeks of free time, I had found myself quite often in the training hall, refining my skills, going through my lessons and keeping my mind and body sharp. I would need every ounce of it. I would have loved to train some more with the daggers I had been gifted, but soon after the start of the break, they had been taken away from me by a Wych, who had told me that I would find them again in the Carnival. I did not like the cryptic undertone of those words. What would it entail to get my weapons again? The answer probably was nothing good.

Deep down I also knew that I trained so much to keep myself from thinking, as there was a lot I had to process. And though my exercises reminded me of the horrid slaughter I had commenced in the hall, it still was better than sitting around and waiting for the madness to settle in.

As for the festivities and the Carnival, I did not know which I was more scared of. I was not naïve enough to think that the festivities would be in any way joyful for me, as I had a vague concept of what Drukhari parties looked like. One might be thinking that I had gotten used to screams and torture by now, but those were things a human mind never fully adjusted to. Also, I was nervous because I would see my master again.

No, nervous was not the right word.

I was… excited.

And scared.

I really was looking forward to seeing him again, but I also knew that I had to confess some things to him, which would bring me punishments. If I was lucky, he would keep them for me if I came back, because weakening me so shortly before the Carnival was not in his interests – or was it? I could use it as a pointer, though, I realised. If he punished me right there and then, then I could be sure that he had just sent me away to die. If he refrained from it, I could deduce from it that maybe it had been Hesperax who had lied. I was not sure what to think anymore.
Thinking about the Overlord, I also remembered that I had called him 'master' before I had left. Though I was scared of his reaction, I needed to ask him whether he had taken offence in the addressing or not.

However, with that realisation the fact also hit me that it very well could be the last time I would be seeing him.

I shook my head, tossing the thought aside. I had to concentrate on the matters at hand… and these were to get mentally and physically ready for the festival. As to the physical part, it would be taken care of. I had already been informed that two slaves would come around to style me for the event. As to the mental part… well. Though I had seen, dealt and felt my share of torture, I was quite sure that my knowledge in that regard would be pretty broadened once the evening was over.

I jumped as I heard a knock on the door. Because I was so on edge, my bidding the visitors inside came out as a snarl, "Come in!"

I could not help but raise my eyebrows in surprise as I beheld the two slaves that came in. I knew them. It were those two that had already styled me several times. Bloody hell, they reeked of fear.

"Hello! I did not expect to see the two of you here," I stated, without much emotion, though. They were, after all, insignificant.

The older one gave back with a slight bow, "Apparently, the Overlord was pleased with our work the last few times, therefore, we were chosen to work on you once more, my lady."

What I realised with confusion, was that I no longer minded the addressing. I caught myself thinking that it was right how it was – after all, I had come a lot further than they ever had. I could not explain why now, all of a sudden, it did no longer matter to me, but then again, I really had other things to worry about.

"Very well. Let's start then, I don't want to be late!" I said.

And so they started working.

It was a long process. They started with crimping my hair, which gave it a lot more volume. Then, they braided the top section of my head in a French braid, starting from the crown of my head, going to the front. After that, they flipped the tail over and braided a Dutch braid over it, using the excess hair from the sides. The braid got fixated in a ponytail at the back, and to finish things off, they plucked some strands out of the braid around my face. Once more, the hairstyle, and the amazing make up they applied afterwards, fitted my features perfectly. What surprised me, was that I got to wear the clothes again that I had been wearing for the introductory ceremony. I had wondered back then why I had been given so glamorous clothes for such a short occasion. Now it made sense. With my enhanced senses, I also realised how fine the clothing actually was. The sportswear I had had whilst training seemed like rough linen against this exquisite silk. It was like someone gently stroking my skin, it felt soothing and relaxing.

I bid the slaves farewell after I received the info that I would be picked up by a squad, later on, to lead me to the festivities. Though the festivities took place in the heart of the Crucibael and the way there was short, I knew why. At this point, too much time and currency had been invested into me to leave me unattended, open for an attack, though I was a lot less defenceless than a year ago. Still, there were enough threats around here to be had which I would easily be no challenge for, especially unarmed.

However, I knew where I had to go now. And I dreaded it.

I let my mind wander for a bit, but only towards what was happening currently outside. I knew that right now a hunt was commenced, for the Archons that had a competitor in the Carnival. Pure entertainment, nothing more. From what I had heard, it had to be a gigantic arena they hunted in, and I knew that the start and end of the hunt would be commenced in the Crucibael. I wondered whether my master attended too or not.

I guessed that I would find out in a minute though, because the slaves had been 'asked' to observe the end of the hunt, when they were prepared for the festivities. Which, of course, meant that we damn well better did if we did not want to get punished.

So, I paced to the observation room, plucking at my hair, checking my makeup, setting my clothes. Rarely had I been that nervous for something around here. I hated how sweaty my palms were.

The observation room was guarded by two Kabalites. I did not have to say anything; they let me pass. As I entered, I found with distaste that I was apparently the last one to arrive. Here, I met the slaves I already knew so well. I saw that they all had been styled like me, equally glamorously dressed, and the notion hit me how well subtle makeup could improve every face. We just exchanged nods - probably the reality of the nearness of the Carnival hit us. At least it hit me. So far, I had been able to shove it all aside, ignoring the fact that I would, most likely, kill some of those in here very soon - or they would end me. I could not wrap my head around it, no matter how hard I tried.

The observation room was a closed balcony, whose front was made out of glass, so we had a good look down into the arena. Though I dreaded it, I took a deep breath and stepped to the glass, looking down.

It was in these moments that I saw an Archon of an unknown Kabal lifting some kind of humanoid prey over his head, in a suggestively victorious pose. The dead body was fouled up beyond all recognition, I could not say what kind of creature it once had been. With the sight, I also noticed the enormous amount of wailing and screams that welled up from the bottom of the arena; somehow I had blanked it out. I saw that it was nothing short of a slaughter down there. The Archons had their way with their helpless prey; the arena, which had been redesigned to offer some kind of forest-like biotope, was soaked with blood. Though it turned my stomach, I took a wider look around, searching for my master, but I could not spot him.

I swallowed and looked away. If this was just the prelude of what was to follow, how should I ever survive it? And if I survived it, how would I survive it? How much would be left of me if I emerged victoriously?

My slip of attention almost cost me another grave mistake.

A voice cut through the nausea I was experiencing, "You are doomed, and you know it."

I understood the words, though they were not spoken in the human language.

In the millisecond I wanted to react, I remembered that I was not allowed to. How often Vlokarion and his upgrades had saved me! With a normal, human reaction time I would have failed.

Of course, it had been Pychus, who, apparently, had tried one last time to test whether I understood the Dark Eldar tongue. And I almost failed. Too close. Far too close.

I looked at him - boy, I had been way too distracted, to not notice him until now - and, forcing a scornful smile on my face, I said in a belittling tone, "Pychus, I believe you are a smart guy." He looked at me, raising one eyebrow, clearly not knowing where I was going with this. That only made it far more enjoyable. "Then why the hell are you too stupid to remember to speak your own language?"

He snarled at me and paced away from me. Good. Once more, he had eaten it up. I could not help but snigger. This had gone well.

However, this had been all the conversation I got while we were waiting around, occasionally looking down on the slaughter that happened several hundred metres below us. As usual, I tried not to think too hard about Cadriel and Josmina and nurtured my hatred for the rest.

As the hunt died down, one by one, we got fetched to be brought to the Carnival. As usual, I was the last one in the room. It did not surprise me anymore - apparently, as the slave of the biggest Kabal of them all, I was to show more patience than the rest. It had been a theme around here that had been played several times, and by now, I had gotten used to it, though I still disliked it.

Finally, my escort arrived and I was confronted with a face I knew.

"Dracon! I am honoured to be once more received by you," I said with a small bow. Once more, the Despair Bringers had been assigned to pick me up. I really wondered whether it was still a gambit played on Zuol by the Overlord, or just done to confuse me.

"You remember me. Impressive. I was expecting that most of your memories from last year had been beaten out of you," he said.

I smiled warily. "Luckily, my head had been spared most of the time."

He scoffed. "Fine. Come! I don't want to be late."

We marched through the Crucibael at a harsh pace, but I had no problem following. I very clearly realised that we took the scenic route. I knew that there were several gangways and corridors around the enormous round of the Crucibael, most tucked safely into the belly of the beast. Today, we used one of the corridors that had windows which faced down into the middle of the gigantic arena.

I did not bother to look. I knew what I would see down there, though I noticed that the screaming definitely had died down for the most part. It probably had been not too challenging prey, which constituted a swift ending of the slaughter, even when counting that interracial, non-raid killings always were drawn out on purpose.

Since I had little idea of the layout of the Crucibael, I had equally little idea of where we were going. However, that was not necessary, I could hear it all too well. What did not surprise me, were the crescendoing shrieks I heard. What I had not expected was the music. So far, all I could hear were bass lines. And even from here I already understood that they had to be dizzying and trance-inducing.

The realisation hit me hard.

It had been over two years since the last time I had heard actual music. The notion left me with a cold feeling inside. There was so much I had forgotten or forced myself to forget. But to be remembered of one of the things I had loved most in my previous life… broke… something in me. I felt extremely sad all of a sudden, barely able to fight back the tears. The feeling was overwhelming, never had I felt such encompassing sadness. What the hell was wrong with me?

I only noticed that I had halted in my pace as I got nudged forward by one of the warriors. I winced hard, instinctively taking a small jump forward and murmured, "I'm sorry…"

With all my might, I tore my mind off the topic, burying my feelings once more under… in… emptiness. Down with it into the black void! It would do me no good. Weakness was fatal. I was better than this embarrassing feebleness.

Once more, my pondering got completely wiped from my mind. I welcomed it.

Because now, we entered the main corridor, and with it, I felt like I had entered a different world.

The main corridor was filled with Dark Eldar, all lavishly dressed, clothes shimmering in all the colours that ever were to be, swooning decorations, polished armours, dazzling makeup, awe-inducing hairstyles, faces so beautiful and perfectly staged that it hurt. A million different scents, which induced excitement, euphoria, aggression, arousal… too many feelings to be named. The music was much louder in here, yet not unpleasantly loud, though I still knew I was not at the source, it was almost impossible for me to grasp. I was not sure whether I heard different genres coming from different places, or if it was a mixture of everything, like too many notes and sounds laid over each other. It gave me the urge to run away and hide.

Sweat was on my forehead. My heartbeat had a hard time keeping its rhythm, since here the bass lines were so intense. I tasted bile on my tongue. My whole body was confused by the zillions of different stimuli it got.

I had to blink several times and take deep breaths to not get completely engulfed in vertigo because of the sensory overload. My enhanced senses now were a curse, not even the training at Vlokarion's had been able to prepare me for that.

I was not given the time to process; two of the warriors grabbed me and dragged me along, until I found my composure somewhat again. By the time I came to, we had already left the main corridor and had gone into another hall.

Processing did not get one bit easier here.

More sensory overload.

The hall was filled to the brim, divided in one main floor and many private lounges, filled with ever-shifting lights, pedestals, on which scantily dressed Lhamaeans lolled around at poles, movements and shapes so beautiful to behold that they mesmerised me, music, which was not per se loud but… intense… and a choir of wails. It made sense, loud music would only hurt sensitive Eldar ears. Yet, the music was perfectly composed to be stupor-inducing when one listened long enough to it. Sharp overtones, numbing bass lines, soothing middle tones. And the screaming.

Oh yes, the screaming. I found with great dismay that it fit the music. I looked around, and what I saw once more made me see that I had not delved as deep into the Drukhari mindset as I had thought.

Casual torture.

I had always believed that it was something sincere, since it was so essential for them. But here, I was taught that it was not. I found many, many forms of torture in here. Slaves of all kinds of races were strapped down on tables, bound to poles, mounted on walls, hung from the ceiling, suspended in mid-air… the possibilities were endless. No matter what was done to the slaves, it was done as a sideline, the Drukhari had casual conversations, drank, raised their glasses to each other and gave little attention to the writhing bodies and bloodcurdling cries. As if the visual imagery had conjured it up, I now also noticed the heavy, metallic musk of blood that hung in the air. Since many different races got tormented here, it not only reeked of human blood, but also of chemical compounds I had no names for.

As we passed, I also took notice of a particularly nasty contraption. It was an alien which I had never read about, I could not say what it was - some weird humanoid mixture with insect-like limbs and head - but it was half-suspended in a stasis field, while its neck and head were sticking out of the field. A group of Dark Eldar were lounging around the contraption, talking to each other, drinks in hand, while they took turns in cutting the pitiful creature open. The stasis field prevented fast blood loss, prolonging the suffering almost forever, while the screeches of the slave were perfectly audible, since its head was not inside the field.

Though I had seen my share of torture, I forced myself to look away. My mind had been invaded enough, there was no need to expose myself even further to the horrors.

We left the hall again, and I was grateful.

The longer we walked through the enormous festival, the more sensations and inputs I gathered. I found out that halls seemed to be dedicated differently. I saw mixed halls like the first one, pleasure halls, dancing halls, dining halls… the possibilities seemed endless. I was proud that I was now closer to understanding the Dark Eldar spirit than ever before. It would surely make me a better slave.

When I thought I had seen and processed it all, we entered the main hall.

Immediately, I noticed that this was the hall for high society, for the Archons, once more divided by their status.

It was enormous and oval.

The air was filled with a scent that calmed the mind, yet heightened the senses… and, of course, ever-underlying: blood. It was by far the best-organised hall, in the shape of an amphitheatre, but the ranks were not open, rather composed of a multitude of lounges, the signs of the Kabals mounted on them. The higher up in the amphitheatre a lounge was, the higher ranking it was. They also seemed to be organised by their loyalty to the Black Heart, because, on the far, short end of the oval, I could make out something like a gigantic pillar, embedded in the amphitheatre, which had the sign of the Black Heart finely engraved, adorned with jewels, on it. The pillar was filled with lounges; the biggest lounge of them all was at the top, above the highest level of the amphitheatre. I had a good guess where the Overlord was. I had the strangest feeling that I felt his gaze upon me. Closest to this pillar were the ten Kabals, whose Archons I had met and whose competitors I knew all too well by now.

I looked at the lounge of the Poisoned Tongue and wondered whether Malys was staring down at me. Surely she knew who I was and probably had heard enough details about me to be suspicious. Damn Pychus to hell. It reminded me again that I had to tell the Overlord about my slip-up concerning my origins.

We had entered the hall at the short end, which was opposed to the pillar of the Black Heart. My synapses got once more fried by the sheer data they had to process. The lighting in here made something in my brain squirm, as many different colours were overlain in a mind-numbing manner, ever-shifting, never letting me fully adjust. Was this how the beginning of an epileptic seizure felt? In the middle of the arena, an enormous number of Lhamaeans currently performed the strangest dance, between wailing slaves that were hung upside down from the ceiling, and somehow, the Lhamaeans's movements matched the strange lighting perfectly.

Oh hell. I knew what they were doing. I had read it somewhere once.

With every move they did, they drew the tiniest of cuts into the skin of the unfortunate ones. Their nails were covered in neurotoxins, which paralysed the slaves, so they could not utter more than a soft wail, but induced unimaginable pain throughout the whole body. The upside-down position ensured prolonged consciousness. Slowly and gently, they were killing their victims and through the sheer numbers of slaves that got tortured to death in here, they provided for a light meal for the Archons.

Once more I wished that I had more time to process it all, but I was not given time. The Despair Bringers ushered me immediately to the right, through a small door, which led to a corridor under the sides of the amphitheatre. We followed it, several doors, stairs and small hallways branched from it – I quickly comprehended that those were the entrances for the Archons. Our journey led us upwards – no surprises there.

My heart beat faster.

My palms were sweaty.

My throat was dry.

Not long now.

I could not wait.

Though I had never walked in here before, I knew this stair was the last one. I could feel it. The stairs ended in the biggest lounge, just like I had figured it would.

I could not see my master yet, just the tip of the obsidian throne he was on, as I was still surrounded by the warriors, and I simply was a lot shorter than them. I had to keep from hopping excitedly, I had no explanation where this extremely childish notion came from. I just was so glad to finally see him again.

As we had reached the throne, we greeted him, as was appropriate, but as was expected of me, I did not get up when the warriors did. That this mistake had not brought me severe punishment the first time I had met the Overlord, made me wonder in hindsight.

The Dracon took another step forward, bowed once more slightly and said, "Supreme Overlord, your competitor, as ordered."

Warm waves of happiness, mixed with hackles-raising awe and fear washed over me as I beheld his thunderous bass voice for the first time after one year. However, it sounded even more intimidating, now that my hearing was so improved, and I got an understanding of why this was. There was a frequency in his voice, which touched the infrasound level, like the dangerous growling of a predator. It was what made my skull vibrate and induced sheer fear just by hearing it. This voice could move mountains. The Overlord said, "Very well, Dracon. You may leave."

With that, the squad turned on their heels and left the way they came in, which left me kneeling alone in the middle of the lounge.

"Temira. Get up and come to my side. Let me see whether you chose your favours wisely," he said to me. It did not escape me that he most likely knew that. It mattered little.

I loved that he called me by name. "Yes, my lord!" I replied happily, jumping to my feet with ease, locking gazes with him for the first time after what had felt like a hellish eternity. No… it still was incredibly hard to meet his gaze. But this was how it should be. This was him. Awe-inspiring. Overwhelming. Terrifyingly magnificent.

What also hit me at this moment was that I perceived his armour now completely different. The slight, iridescent colours I had seen before, now were painfully clear to me. I could make out colours I had no names for, and yet, it was not too much, it was subtle in a different way, and I realised that the patterns, which the colours drew, underlined the shape of each plate. I was glad that he was not wearing his helmet today, since processing those hypnotic shapes was not easy, and I had enough to do with facing his eyes without having to concentrate to not get dizzy from swirling colours at the corner of my vision. Never before had I noticed such a difference in my colour vision. Sure, Hesperax's hair had looked richer in colour, but it had not been that much of a difference.

I wondered what more I would see today.

I flinched, as his next words ripped me out of my pondering. "Simply obeying will suffice," he scolded me. How nuanced he used his vocal cords! When he spoke in a relaxed manner, it was just tones that fit well together. When he used his voice in a sharper way, he added some tones to it that slightly clashed with each other, making the listener feel uneasy, yet it was not enough to make his voice sound shrill or imbalanced.

Nonetheless, my understanding of it did not help me in the slightest with resisting its power. "Forgive me, Overlord," I replied meekly, feeling intimidated. I had forgotten my manners. How could I?!

However, my sheer happiness got frozen in place as I looked around and Lisbeth was nowhere to be found. Only now the realisation hit me that, until now, I had completely forgotten about her today. I tried not to let it show, but, of course, hiding something from him was futile.

I came to his side, as ordered, and I expected for him to touch me, like he used to. Yet, he did not. He just followed my movements with his gaze, never taking his piercing stare off of me.

As I neared him, the next new sensation hit me. I could now catch his scent. What I got to sense confused me greatly. At first, I could not discern it, as it was quite subtle, and yet something I knew I had smelt before. It took me some moments to remember. His scent reminded me of ice. Not like snow, but like icicles or ice cubes. However, that was not all. I caught whiffs of frozen pine wood and cold iron, mixed with something sharp, chemical and pungent. It was very faint, and I could not tell what it was, only that it was there. Also, the longer I remained beside him, the more I caught a faint, herbal smell, which grew stronger the longer I inhaled it. I felt it accumulating on my palate and I immediately discerned the taste: blood.

So much to take in and all that while I stared into the two endless voids that were his eyes.

The slightest smile showed on his features as he was done pinning me down with his gaze, and he said, "Seems as if you have chosen your favours well, my child. Having your senses enhanced and not bleeding out of your eyes, ears and nose, due to the circumstances, shows that your modifications were integrated well."

I was not entirely sure what he was referring to and why it should be the case, but I would not ask. I had not forgotten what he had done to me the last time I had asked him about why.

He slightly tilted his head. "Even though, for all the training you had, for all of your enhanced senses and for all the skills you acquired, you still do not let go of those foolish thoughts about little Lisbeth. You wonder why she is not here, yes?"

I just nodded. I needed to get used to his presence again. My mouth was dry.

"I am sure that you know the answer," he said ominously.

Hot and cold panic flared up in me and I blurted out, "Is she… gone?"

The Overlord chuckled softly. "Ah, Temira… Still so much to learn. No, she is alive, but let me put it like this: I did not deem her fit to be here."

That could mean anything and it was for me to decipher. Either she simply was not good enough at service, or it meant that she was physically not capable of doing so, because he had hurt or maimed her so much that she simply could not walk. I had to fight hard not to clearly show my fear on my face.

"Enough of that! Lisbeth is taking up too much of my attention anyway, no need to bring her up additionally. After all, we have different things to discuss and this evening should be enjoyed," Vect said. He caught my gaze once more, slightly raised one eyebrow, and added, "I get the feeling that there is something you want to ask me, yes?"

This was the biggest trap he had ever set for me.

There were a million things I wanted to ask him, but most of those things were terribly unwise to ask: details about Lisbeth. Why the lies? Was I destined to die? Where had I failed?

I would have to restrict myself to those that would - hopefully - not bring his wrath down on me, "Yes, my lord. There is something I've wanted to settle since I left." I had to push myself. "I remember calling you 'master' for the first time shortly before I left, and ever since, I have been wondering if I offended you by doing so."

He did not answer immediately, but looked at me with an unreadable expression for a long while.

"How intriguing," he finally said, slightly tilting his head, "it seems as if this carries great gravity for you. Others might use it as an honorific without a second thought, but for you, it is more than that. Am I correct?"

I just nodded. I would not have been able to say a single word now.

A rare smile was seen on his face. "Well. Then I think you know the answer, am I right, Temira?"

I returned his smile weakly, but relieved.

Still, something bugged me. At times like these, he would caress my hair or cheek, or anything of the sort, but he denied me the physical contact. I wrecked my head over why, though I knew I would not get the answer. In the best case, he was just avoiding it because this was an official event, in the worst case it had something to do with me failing.

"Nonetheless, I am sure, that…" the Overlord started, but did not finish his sentence, because one of his messengers entered the lounge, from the official entrance to the left.

The messenger fell to his knees before the throne, without making eye contact, and said, "Supreme Overlord, Archon Malys requests to enter your presence."

"Ah, about time she showed up," my master said, obviously annoyed. "Let her in."

My heart beat faster. This was the first time I met Aurelia Malys. I was really excited to see what she looked like. As I knew it was expected of me, I dropped to my knees beside his seat.

When she entered the lounge, alone, her lifeguard left outside, I immediately could understand why one could fall for her physically, though I knew that those things were insignificant to my master. She was dressed in a breathtaking gown, which combined belligerence and elegance in a fashion that made my jaw drop. It had two layers. The lower layer was the elegant, yet coy one, consisting mostly of deep blue and turquoise lace, enclosing her neck like a choker, barely covering the cleavage and her breasts and wrapping her arms, where it was fixated on her middle fingers. It underlined her every curve, making her alabaster skin shine through. I also noticed here that I perceived the colours differently. I always had thought that they were a questionable choice in terms of combination, but now I understood that Eldar apparently saw more of the colour spectrum and to them, they matched perfectly. This satisfied me greatly, because I always had complained about the choice of colours back in my time. Now it all made sense. Something making sense was a rare treat around here.

Her delicate undergown was covered by an ostentatious wrap, which started at her head with a black standing collar, which looked like a spiderweb, that perfectly matched her complex updo, which was filled with gems and blades. Then it fell over her shoulders, ending in long trumpet sleeves. Around her waist the wrap was fixated with an underbust corset, and it slightly connected with the floor. What really made the wrap so astonishing, was that it was made of thousands of small blackish-iridescent metal scales, which swayed with her every move, making for a very dazzling sight to behold. On her legs, she wore light armour, and boots with high heels. The standing collar complimented her delicate face and dainty features perfectly, and all that only underlined the profound stare of her pitch-black eyes, which beamed with cutting intelligence.

Yes, this woman surely was the closest thing to a match Vect had, and that was clear even without knowing who she was and what she had been to him a long time ago.

As it was custom, Malys curtsied to Vect, ending the movement in a short drop to one knee and then rising again. I found once more that her gown underlined her movements perfectly and gave them a dizzying elegance.

"Supreme Overlord. It has been a while," she greeted him. Even the way she used her voice showed her genius. She generally had a higher pitch to her voice, but I realised that she used the highest tones on purpose, to sound innocent. An untrained and unwary listener surely would fall for the façade. However, in the deeper tones, there was a gentle purr, on one hand underlining the innocent tone, on the other sketching the picture of a cat lying in wait for the kill.

I really adored my new auditory senses. It was fun to explore them.

"Indeed. I take it you came to tell me that things are moving along as planned?" Vect replied. I strained all my senses to get anything from them, after all, they had quite the rich history together, but I could deduce nothing at all. There was no emotion between them, just plain, cold business.

"Yes, I received the plans, yet I have a suggestion to make," she said, and it did not escape me that she did not ask whether she was allowed to or not.

"Why did you even assume that I am interested in your suggestions?" Vect replied sharply.

She smiled confidently. I doubted that there was another emotion than confidence in her in these moments and it probably was necessary when facing the Overlord so boldly. "Because I know that you will like it," she replied.

Vect scoffed. "Let me be the judge of that." He slightly shook his head, then turned towards me and said, "Child, fetch me a drink. It seems as if my patience is about to be tried."

I got up, bowed slightly and made my way to the official exit, which meant that I had to go around Malys, as I was on the right side of the throne and the exit was on the left, and leaving behind the throne was not an option.

Of course, I did not get away so easily.

As I passed her, she said, "You must be Temira."

I flinched slightly as she said my name, afraid that it was my fault that she knew, but then I remembered that it was unsurprising, considering that I had told it to Beltis, while most of High Commorragh had been watching.

"Yes, Archon," I gave back courteously. Even if she was Vect's biggest rival, I needed to be cautious.

She nodded, her cutting stare upon me, then gestured me to go.

Profoundly confused, I left.

What had that been all about? She had already known that. Why ask me who I was?

Riddles. How I loved them.

I shook it off and realised, as I stood all alone in the broad corridor, that I had no idea where to go to get my master's drink. Ah well. As usual, I would manage.

I followed the corridor, happy that all the sounds were dulled in here for a bit, until everything got louder again. It seemed as if I was on the right track.

It did not take me long, and down a staircase, to reach my destination. It was yet another, big room, with a bar in the center, but I immediately realised what was different here.

I was in high society.

I saw a lot of Archons with their lifeguards standing around, their armour revealed that, though I could right now not make out any familiar faces. They got entertained by several Haemonculi that commenced the torture on some unfortunate souls.

As I made my way to the bar, I looked around, wary of my surroundings, and suddenly I saw something, or, rather, someone, that caught my eye. I almost had missed him, as the hall had a lot of alcoves and booths, and he stood almost completely shrouded in shadow. The shifting lights in here made it hard to perceive in the dark for me.

I went up to the tall, slender figure, clad in wide robes and a black mask that just left the eyes uncovered, and said, "Maester! I had not thought to meet you here."

What additionally had thrown me off was the fact that he once more looked completely different. In addition to the mask, he had altered his exterior once more drastically. His frame was still slender, but almost no skin was to be seen anymore, as - from what I could extrapolate under the wide robes - his whole body was covered in thick, heavy plates of bone, without trading that for agility and manual dexterity from what I saw, since his fingers were as slender and flexible as ever. Though his face had somewhat retained its shape, it was, of course, now a lot broader than before and he looked quite heavily armoured. It seemed like a wise choice considering that wandering about in the city always proved to involve a quite realistic chance of getting attacked. Also, recognising him was barely possible in this form.

The hoarse chuckle I knew so well escaped Vlokarion's scrawny frame. "Astutely spotted, my child, even though I found that mingling with a crowd like this is quite inspiring. However, as much as I enjoy conversing with you, I have to keep this conversation short, as I have some things to prepare still."
"Prepare? Are you conducting business today?" I asked him curiously.

"In a fashion. You will see," Vlokarion gave back, the smile apparent in his voice. Because of his heavy features, the slight facial movement the smile took up, was underlined around his eyes and it gave him the fierce expression of a wild animal. "I take it you fared alright with your upgrades?"

"Yes, Maester. They certainly proved to be very useful," I said.

"Good, good. I see that you have adjusted even better now. Already excited to try them out for real?" he asked me, not hiding that he was anxious to see exactly that.

"I… would put it in different words, but… yes, I guess. Maester, if I may ask, is there any particular reason why you are not... engaged right now?" I gave back, waving in a motion that encompassed the hall.

His eyes narrowed with a deep smile. "Let's just say that this would be a waste of my expertise. I leave that to younger, less talented colleagues. I will show my craft later, in a more… dramatic environment. However, now I…"

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" a voice cut in from behind.

I closed my eyes in silent torment. I knew that voice all too well.

I turned around with a fake smile on my face and said, "Archon Ea'nash. I was wondering when we would meet around here."

He grabbed me at my chin and made me look into his eyes, with a broad, wolfish smile on his face and said, "I would not miss meeting you for the life of me, my sweet child," he stated, then his stare wandered towards Vlokarion, "though I have to question the company you are currently in."

Something was wrong with him. His eyes had a feverish sheen to them and his movements were a bit… jittery.

"My apologies, Archon. I shall take my leave now, I am busy anyway," Vlokarion gave back with a slight bow. I could not shake off the feeling that there was a slight, mocking tone vibrating in his voice. Ea'nash probably was no match for him, but saying that to an Archon's face as a Haemonculus was not a wise choice.

However, Ea'nash seemed to ignore or miss the inflexion, because he just gestured to Vlokarion to leave, who did as told and merged with the shadows completely.

I stood the deep kiss and bite I received now from Ea'nash with cool composure, though I hated it. Had it not been enough that he had humiliated me so for one night? Also, I realised what was wrong with him. He was intoxicated in some fashion. He smelt extremely chemical and his breath was heavy with the taste of alcohol and other things I had no names for. I was surprised that it did not show in his articulation.
"Ah, I see that someone got enhanced. I had not thought it possible but you are even more delicious than the last time. I take it the Haemonculus you just talked to upgraded you?" Ea'nash demanded to know.

Oh, this was dangerous! I now realised that it had been unwise to talk to Vlokarion, as his survival was a well-kept secret. But I had lied to Ea'nash before and I suspected that his intoxicated state would make it even easier.

"In a way. He assisted the Master Haemonculus," I lied fluently. Half-truths were easier to sell, after all.

"Well! Enticing. That you came out of those clutches so healthy, surprises me," Ea'nash gave back. Though his words sounded like he was doubting mine, his inflexion showed me that they were said in jest.

Still, this was bad. I had dawdled long enough by talking to Vlokarion, if Ea'nash now kept me any longer, I was in trouble.

"Now, child, let's have a drink, yes? After all, this night is for you," he said and I could not believe my ears. Ea'nash had always been unrestrained and unconventional, but I was pretty sure that this was just outright stupid.

That he not only wanted to talk to me, but to have a drink with me, was even worse, in terms of time-management. "My lord, I am pretty sure that I am not allowed…"

"Nonsense! Every participant of the Carnival is allowed to drink today, after all, for most of you, this is your last meal," Ea'nash enlightened me. Oh no, he really let himself go!

"But, Archon, I'm on d…" I started.

"Will you stop contradicting me!" he snarled at me and grabbed my arm, in a sudden rage. "Now, come, before I…"

"Tahvyn! There you are! Have you forgotten about our meeting?" a melodic voice cut in from the side.

Archon Yaelindra.

Boy, was I happy to see her!

"Ah, I see, you are at it with Temira again, hmm?" she said playfully, touching his cheek gently and making him look at her. Then, she shook her head and sighed, "My, my, have you overdone it again? Come, I'll get you something to sober up, I want you to perform later and you are no use in this state. Besides, the girl surely is engaged for the Overlord's sake. And you don't want to interfere with that, hmm?"

"She was just leaving anyway," Ea'nash smiled and let go of me, as a side-note.

I did not let the opportunity go to waste, but bowed to them and fled.

As I went away, I locked gazes with Yaelindra and she winked at me, while Ea'nash had resorted to kissing her neck. I now was pretty sure who the dominant one in this weird relationship was and it made it even stranger. I nodded to her and flashed a short, grateful smile at her in answer to her wink.

Luckily, I did not have to hazard a guess about the Overlord's drink, all had been apparently ordered beforehand and I just had to receive it.

This time, I was in luck, I was able to leave the hall and get back to my master's lounge unhindered.

However, before I could enter it, I was the witness of a quite delicious scene. Malys just left, and Hesperax just came. I watched them with held breath.

The two probably most prestigious women in all of Commorragh, and those two that were closest to the Overlord on different levels, met each other's gaze and I swore that I could feel the temperature dropping as they did. Never before had I seen such cold stares.

"Aurelia," Hesperax said, her inflexion somewhere around absolute zero.

"Lelith," Malys gave back, in an equal fashion, now sporting a voice that was much fuller and deeper than before.

The slightest nod could be seen from both of them, and more duelling of stares, until they could no longer hold it. I realised they tore their gaze off each other in the very same millisecond.

Now, Malys came towards me, a meeting I had dreaded. She halted, smiled coldly and said, while she reached for my face, "So, you are the famed slavegirl I have heard so much about. You really must be special, considering how little he has destroyed you over such a long time, speaking in mon-keigh terms. And yet, when I see you now, I wonder what it is with you. What he has planned with you. Make no mistake, child, you are only still sane and alive because he has some plans for you. Make of that what you will."

I wanted to shiver as she ran her fingertips over my left cheek, but I suppressed the urge with all my might. I would not give her an ounce of weakness, even though what she said unearthed a truth I had always known in my heart, but always ignored.

After that, she left me, her ominous words lingering on my mind.

For now, I shook them off. I had to hurry.

With a queasy feeling, I entered the lounge, only to find Vect and Hesperax talking to each other. I was glad that I was not immediately the center of my master's attention, therefore, I quietly came back to his side.

It was weird meeting her like this again, while she was in a situation where she clearly did not have the upper hand. I had spent so much time with her whilst viewing her as the one with total power over me and everything else, that I had almost forgotten that even she had to bow to the Overlord. However, I did not even merit a gaze and as usual, being in the same room like these two giants of Commorragh made me feel uneasy, yet somehow charmed.

It was a short meeting - as it seemed, Hesperax had only come by to inform the Overlord that the main event was about to start. Today, there was no familiarity, no gentleness between them like I had experienced it before, just official professionalism and cool respect. She left soon again.

As she was gone, Vect looked at me and said coldly, "That took you long enough. You are not getting sloppy, are you, Temira?"

I lowered my gaze and said, "Please, forgive me, my lord, but there was a Haemonculus and three Archons who delayed me." Damn, this was exactly what I had feared! And him already being annoyed did not help with the things I had to confess still!

However, he had been toying with me, because he smiled and gave back, "Do not worry, Temira, I just like to keep you on edge. Nonetheless, it is intriguing how much you pique general interest around here. No matter. Hold on to that drink, child, I was not entirely truthful with you - it is actually for you."

So Ea'nash had not been lying. Still, this was bad. I would take it very slowly with that drink, because the last thing I wanted was to get drunk. "Thank you, my lord. I will be careful, though."

"I had not expected anything else. Now, Temira, let us move to a different venue, the main event is about to start." With these words, he got up, and like ghosts, his lifeguards came to his side. I had somehow managed to not notice them until now, they had been lurking in the back of the room.

I followed him, as expected of me, and to my surprise, we did not walk for a long time. We left through the official exit, went down a corridor, up one set of winding stairs and arrived in the lounge that overlooked the Crucibael so well and which I already knew from our last visit. Today, a pile of cushions was laid out on the right side of his throne, and I welcomed not having to sit on the floor for once.

As I did, I had a look at the drink again and could not help but wonder if there was a hidden thought in it that I had to decipher and whether it was another test. While I was musing about it, my master had his drink served too, and it surprised me that today things were so different, that I was treated so special today. It was suspicious. Or was I overreacting?

Suddenly, a piece of knowledge from my time floated back into my mind. I remembered "The Torturer's Tale". It was a short story about a torture-slave named Gideon, who had the honour to get visited by Vect. The Overlord had then told him the story of his rise to power. Gideon got but a short break from all the horrors of Commorragh, as he sat and listened, sharing a drink with the Overlord, without ever knowing who he was with and whether the story was true or not. What happened in the end was that Vect left the ending open and Gideon got betrayed, because what he had drunk had been poison for him and he was left to suffer again. Of course, the poison did not kill him.

"Let's hope I don't end up like Gideon…" I murmured and flinched as I realised that I indeed had said it aloud.

"What was that, Temira?" Vect cut in from the side.

I got myself into this mess, now I had to deal with it. "I am wondering, my lord, whether this," I slightly raised the glass, "is yet another test or really a courtesy. I just know a story in which a particular slave you told the story of your life to and shared a drink with ended up with terrible indigestion. I would hate to face the same fate so shortly before the Carnival and fail because of it. I hope you will forgive me if I am overly suspicious of that, but I made it my policy not to fail tests."

That he laughed at me now, relieved me quite a lot. "It is intriguing when you mon-keigh are suspicious of something, you always manage to end up with the perfectly diametrically opposed answer. I remember what you are talking about, yet at the same moment, I have to ask myself whether I have overestimated your sense of logic. The questions you should ask yourself are: what would it gain me? Was this fellow in any way in the same position you are now? Ponder this, child, and let me know to what conclusion you came," he said with a chuckle.

I could not help but smile and answer, "Of course, if you put it like that, it sounds pretty stupid of me. I am sorry, Overlord."

A fanged smile. "Very good, Temira! Now, let us drink to the Carnival."

I nodded and bowed my head while toasting to him, then took a careful sip from my drink. With closed eyes and overfiring salivary glands, I took the taste in. It was very intense and a lot of nuances were in there, which mixed perfectly together. However, it was hard to discern them, as I had to concentrate not to drool because of sheer sensory overload. I tasted a variety of berries, finely composed together, exotic fruits in subtle nuances and dark chocolate, as the bitter foundation. Each of the notes in itself was not a problem, but the mixture proved to be a challenge. And, boy oh boy, as I had already feared, I would have to be very, very careful concerning the alcohol. But, I guessed, weak drinks were not to be found in this city of endless excesses.

As I came to, my master stared down at me and said in a sardonic tone, "Still adjusting, hmm?"

"To be honest, yes, my lord. I had little opportunity to adjust to my new sense of taste," I gave back.

He ignored my remark and continued, "Before the shows start, there is another thing I have for you. Consider it my favour. There are some things you should know about the Carnival and who better to tell you than the one deciding upon the design of the competition. Listen carefully."

I nodded, excited about what he would tell me.

"The layout of the arena is an upside-down pyramid. Your goal lies at the tip and, of course, you start out on the edges of the other side. There are many ways down, some longer, requiring a lot of strength and stamina, some shorter, in need of a sharp mind. The arena is separated in compartments, that only have specific exits and specific areas in between, that get sealed shut once someone is inside them, to allow for a safe resting place. The exits of the compartments will only be open for a limited time and not every exit leads to a resting place. Also, you will only find a very limited variety of Commorragh's predators in the arena. However, if you dare to dawdle, things will get... complicated for you. Observe closely, when an enemy turns their back on you. And, lastly, if I were you, I would make sure that I am the first one to reach the prize, and if not, I would not let it be taken out of the room it is in by anyone other than me. And once I did, I would make haste to the exit, which will be at the center point of the base of the pyramid and be quite wary of my surroundings."

I just nodded once more, already starting to decipher what he had said to me. The part about the ways and compartments was clear, and I already understood that if I dared to take too long with advancing, I would have to deal with a bunch of dangerous beasts. I also would try to go for a shorter way that required some brains, as, for one, I was sure that would help me greatly and for two, that my master expected exactly that of me. The resting places surely were important, I would have to be on the lookout for them. What he meant about observing my enemies closely when they turned their backs on me I had no idea, it was all very cryptic. And though his words about the prize and the room it was in were quite explicit, they made little sense right now. I was sure that I would see it when I was there. Nonetheless, what he had told me was vital. I knew where to go and where to leave and I suspected that to be able to leave, I would have to hold the prize in hand.

"Thank you, my lord. I shall use your generous favour wisely," I said, truly grateful.

"You better will," he said.

With that, our conversation was cut short, because the shows were about to start, which was marked by a fanfare.

I was not too happy that I now had no opportunity to further talk to my master; after all, there were still some things I had to confess to him. I wanted to go into the Carnival with a clear conscience and it would be important that he knew that Malys probably was informed that I did not hail from the Imperium. That Ea'nash had helped me with my favour towards Yaelindra was inconvenient to tell him, but better that than him finding out and punishing me for keeping it from him.

The longer the shows progressed, the more I was grateful that I had considerable to drink, for once being able to numb the experience a bit.

It all started out with a menagerie of different monsters that got paraded around in the arena, and an announcement done by a fierce, female voice, "Welcome, Commorragh, to the main shows of our feast! You will find them becoming more delectable the longer the evening progresses. As it is custom, we start out with a menagerie of the predators that will hunt in the arena once the time is up for the contestants, to take care of the slowest in a most amusing fashion. After you have a good look at them, the assigned bounty hunters will show their skill. Competitors, take a good look! It will be educational."

I noticed with surprise that the arena had been redesigned once more, now mimicking an urban environment with lots of cover and spaces to hide. After parading the beasts, they were let loose, and three Drukhari in vantablack body gloves entered the arena. As I looked at them, I became painfully reminded of the time I almost got killed. The assassin that had done away with me back then had been clad in the very same attire. I swallowed, took another sip of my drink and tried not to remember too closely.

Then, the bounty hunters demonstrated their skills by killing off the monsters that were skulking around in the arena, and their efficacy and skill were astonishing to watch - but also a very clear warning to all of the competitors that trying to go against those skilful killers was a very bad idea.

It was awe- and fear-inducing, but also beautiful to watch, in a twisted kind of way. I doubted that many of my foes could appreciate the beauty of it, though.

Whilst the arena was rebuilt by a multitude of slaves, my master said to me, "I take it you understand?"

"Indeed, my lord. However, for me, this impressive display would not have been necessary. I know that there is no way out of this but through it," I gave back.

"Good," he simply replied, then added, "I think you will be quite surprised about the next act."

"Is it the one performed by the Maester?" I asked.

Vect nodded. "Indeed. Why do you know?"

"He was the Haemonculus I mentioned earlier. I had a short talk with him and he hinted at being here for a particular reason," I replied.

At this, Vect snorted forcefully. "I am disappointed, Temira, you should do better than that and he, especially, should know better than to talk to you. I cannot have someone asking prying questions why you were able to have an amicable chat with a Haemonculus," he growled and shook his head.

I ducked subliminally and shrunk a bit deeper into the cushions. "I am sorry, my lord, it was a stupid mistake and I shall not do it again!"

"Feel lucky that I need you in top shape right now…" Vect started, his face drawn into a sinister expression that promised me pain - but not now, as he just had made clear. Woe to me if there was a later for me, then. The Overlord would not forget this. He took a deep, annoyed breath and continued, "No… you are not the main culprit here. It is foolhardy to expect from a mon-keigh that it keeps subtle machinations in its head…"

I was very well aware of the word he used this time and that he dropped the gender altogether, expressing his low opinion of me better than any curse could have done. I really had failed him this time and I had to keep myself from crying and vigorously begging for his forgiveness, for I knew that both things would just annoy him further. It just hurt so much seeing him so disappointed in me. All I could do now was to keep quiet and sit it out. I decided it would be wiser to wait until I confessed. Adding on top of his bad mood surely was not a good idea.

Then again, the fact that he refrained from hurting me right now, revealed that he was indeed not touching me today because it was an official event and he wanted to keep his distance, not because he was so displeased with me. If he had been, I was sure that he would not have stayed his hand and would not have given a single thought about my shape.

"If he thinks that he can outplay me with hoaxes like this, then it is probably time to invoke some penalties on him. Someone needs to be reminded of his place," the Overlord snarled and his words bode very ill for Vlokarion.

So we sat there beside each other in silence and I watched what happened next in the arena. The urban environment was removed, and a stepped cone got built up in the middle of the arena. On each of the steps, a multitude of slaves got strapped down, different races mixed together, and they got fitted with strange hoods made out of cables and hoses that got connected into their spines and brains. This was done by a hoard of Wracks. I never knew Vlokarion had that many.

At last, as the whole pyramid except the topmost floor had been built up and the slaves connected properly - to whatever they were connected, it was a riddle - Vlokarion floated into the arena, accompanied by an impressive amount of Talos and a Wrack I knew all too well. Savva scuttled behind his master, and he dragged along a female Eldar slave, who fought against the Wrack with all her might. However, it was pointless, I knew how strong Savva was and even Eldar muscles were no match for the bulky mass of Savva's body. As I looked closer, I could also see that her whole body - she was naked, of course - was covered with marks of different kinds. It looked like a strange assortment of weird tattoos.

"Behold Phethuel, one of the few direct apprentices of the renowned and infamous Haemonculus Vlokarion! From the courtesy of the Overlord and the Prophets of Flesh, he will grace us with a particularly special treat: a Talos-amplified pain organ. He will torture one of our weak cousins in so many ways that each of the other slaves, which will be neurologically connected to her, will perceive the torment differently and will produce a different output in the Talos engines. As an additional treat, most of the ones singing for us today are losing competitors from previous Carnivals. Enjoy this masterpiece!"

While the announcer did her thing, Vlokarion and Savva climbed the cone and fitted the Eldar onto a torture rack, that left her hanging upside-down and open to access from all sides. A circular table emerged from the sides of the platform, enclosing Vlokarion, Savva and the slave and I could see numerous torture instruments on it. I now understood what the markings on her body were there for. Apparently, the areas of different torture methods had been marked beforehand and her whole body was laid out like a map. The Talos arranged themselves on the various steps of the cone and they too got connected to the slaves.

Without showing it on my face, but feeling utterly queasy, I took a big sip from my drink. This would be something I would not want to remember too closely. Time to get a little bit tipsy.

I had seen Vlokarion torture someone before, but now I got to understand that it only had been casual compared to what he did to that poor woman now. I had not thought it possible to inflict so many different torments at once onto someone, and I quickly realised why it had to be an Eldar. A human could never probably muster the amount of emotional and sensory capability to really feel everything he did. He used every method to hurt someone that was imaginable - and more. He started out slowly, with the uninspired classics of cuts, burns, blunt injuries and the sorts, then went on to intensifying the agony with using the wounds he already had caused, drugging her, making something as light as a feather stroke pure agony, and terrifyingly slowly, he took her apart, bit by bit. He did not use a stasis field as I had seen before. This is what really showed his skill, because as he inflicted injuries onto her that should have killed her, she did not even faint once, keeping her agony and screams alive for all the time he tortured her.

The eerie choir, which the connection of the slaves produced, should be something I would never forget. What I got to hear were a multitude of screams, each one sounding slightly different, expressing different kinds of pain. It ranged from desperate sobs and slight twitching, over shaking and mewling, to helpless howls of sheer agony and thrashing in the shackles, which made me understand that not all of them felt the same intensity of pain. All that was underlined by different sounds that got output by the Talos and everything worked somehow together, producing a somehow melodic, ululating, swelling and decaying choir of screams, underlined by tones that made it almost sound like some kind of twisted, nauseating song. It was ineffable, but it surely held a new kind of atrociousness for me and tormented my ears with a fierceness I had not sensed before. What I had listened to in the halls had been child's play compared to what this was now.

And I could see that even the most jaded of the Dark Eldar enjoyed it, namely, the Overlord. He did not show it much, but I had learnt how to read his face at some times, and I could see the satisfied sheen in his eyes and the slight relaxation of his ever-disdainful expression.

Even I could feel the emotions of pure horror, numbing fear and unimaginable agony.

What scared me even more than the display, was that, again, on some twisted, basic level, I could understand the beauty of it.

What had I become?

I had no idea how long that gruesome demonstration of skill lasted, I was just sure that without a bit of a fogged mind I probably would not have been able to bear it so bravely, and I had seen and felt my share of torture around here.

By now, I did not know anymore what to do with myself in the Carnival. I felt the obligation to win, not only to please my master and to get back to Lisbeth, but also not to end up one way or the other if I lost. However, the thought of just jumping into the jaws of one of those monsters also had an appealing quality…

I shook my head at my own, foolish thoughts. I knew that even if I thought I had ended it, I knew that bringing people back from nigh-death was, after all, the specialty of the Haemonculi. And after watching this impressive, terrible display, I understood yet still a bit more what kind of master Vect employed.

Over the course of the show, the quieter specimen constantly grew louder in their expressions, giving the - in lack of a better word - 'composition' a dire crescendo. The grand finale of Vlokarion's performance was the simultaneous death of all those slaves he had driven into madness on these steps. Crying out once more in unimaginable pain at a deafening volume, the voices suddenly got silenced, as the last bit of suffering and life got drawn out of them.

As Vlokarion had finished, he earned thunderous applause. I found it weird how much he seemed to enjoy the limelight. It seemed so unfitting to the being I knew that loved his privacy and secrecy.

"Are you again doing the thing you are worst at, Temira? Thinking?" Vect's voice cut into my thoughts.

"I assure you, my lord, if I could stop it, I would," I gave back.

He chuckled. "Ah, but I find your stupendously limited musings always so entertaining, my child. What is it this time?"

"I can't help but wonder - and I hope you excuse that question - why is he allowed to perform if he should keep to himself? Wouldn't it be easy for someone to analyse his frame and look for it?" I know I took a shot by asking about a why.

I felt lucky that Vect was still amused. "It is simply a show of power, of the quality of the Haemonculi I employ, showing the masses that reaching my echelon is impossible. Also, do you think that he chose this form just for fashion? This is ablative, scattering plating. Scanning and saving this frame will not work," he patiently explained to me.

Though he seemed docile for now, I did not trust this peace and decided to keep my mouth shut for now - not only because of the growing dizziness in my head and knowing what kind of mistakes would come from that - and rather watch what transpired further in the arena. If my master was in a chatting mood once more, he would let me know anyway.

The bodies, contraptions and cone got cleared away, again partly manually, partly automatically, and the arena got covered with the white sand I already knew so well. I had a good guess about what would happen next.

The announcer confirmed my suspicions, "Before we reach our grand finale, some of the finest combatants of the Cult of Strife will grace us with their combat skills, something light to recover before the final show, which you will want to enjoy with your head clear."

I had a good guess what, or rather who, the final show would be. The only question that remained was against which foe she would fight. I looked forward to it. Considering that I now knew a lot more about her style of combat and that I now had senses able to follow the battle a lot better than beforehand, it would be really interesting and educational for me. Now I needed to be careful with my drink. As the announcer had put it so astutely, I wanted to keep my head clear for that.

Soon after, the Wyches started their destructive dance down in the arena, and even their display was delicious to watch. Even the worst of them were at a level I could only dream of, and I saw some manoeuvres I had also been taught. Being able to understand them made me happy.

While the Wyches showed their skills, my master and, to my everlasting surprise, also me, got served some heavenly dishes. Though Vlokarion's performance had left me with a feeble feeling in my stomach, I also felt how hungry I was as I smelt the dishes and I did not find it hard to eat. I was grateful for my indestructible appetite. Once more, I was somewhere between mouthwatering bliss and nerve-overloading oblivion, considering my fine senses and the first time I really came to try them out in this regard. If I lived through the Carnival, I looked forward to delving deeper into my refined taste buds. It made one of my favourite things even more enjoyable.

As we had finished eating, I said, "My lord, I would like to thank you for your generosity. I had not expected for this evening to go so… pleasantly, in so many aspects. And I would also like to thank you for staying your hand for now, even though I failed. I certainly don't deserve your patience."

Vect showed a sardonic smile at that and replied, "Good to see that you have not forgotten your manners entirely, Temira. If you come back, I will enjoy listening to your screams once more. But for now, it would be impractical."

That certainly was a very cold answer, but what had I expected?

We returned to our cold silence once more and watched the performance of the Wyches.

At some point, they finished, and the arena got cleaned and prepped once more.

(...)

I was desperate for a conversation by now, but there was little I could do against the silent demeanour of my master today.

Unexpectedly, my master indeed broke the silence once more, with a statement I had not expected, "Using the loophole to get to Yaelindra was clever, a move that certainly pleased me."

That was my chance. He seemed to be benign towards me once more, the shows were almost over and there was little time for me to do my confessions now. If I did not dare it now, I was sure I would not be able to do it at all before the Carnival. And I already hated the thought of going down with a guilty conscience. "Thank you, my lord, I am happy to please you." I swallowed. "About that, I need to tell you…"

However, I got cut off, for the announcer's full, female voice sounded through the arena once more, "Commorragh! Now is the time you have all been waiting for! The Queen of the arenas will show her unique skills once more! Give it up for the one and only, Her Excellency Lelith Hesperax!"

What I had already witnessed once before now happened again. The whole arena broke out in thunderous roars, loud enough to deafen anyone and the Queen entered the arena.

I had blown my chance. I hoped that there would still be some time after the fight. I needed to tell him that I let something on about my origins and that I was in Ea'nash's debt. Especially the first one was crucial, the second one could be revoked and ignored by him whenever it pleased him.

(...)

Something was wrong. I had felt it the longer the fight had lasted. At first, I had attributed it to Hesperax's lightning-fast movements and my sheer concentration to follow them properly, but the longer the fight had lasted, the more I had felt it. This was more than the drunkenness I was feeling right now.

What was going on? Had I at last been poisoned for my mistakes?

Vect looked at me, and once more gifted me with an evil smile. "What is the matter, Temira? You look quite pale."

"My lord… I think I have been poisoned," I gave back, fear ringing in my voice.

He chuckled darkly, never altering this terrible smile and I began to understand. "One might call it that, yes. I can assure you, though, that you will emerge from this kind of poisoning perfectly healthy and in top condition. After all, anything else would make little sense in the Carnival, agreed?" he mocked me.

"So… the drink…" I started, but it got incredibly hard to speak as my body went limp and numb and my mind started to shut down.

"Very good, Temira! You seem to find some wit after all!" he purred at me sardonically.

I tried to fight against it, but I already knew that it would be a battle I would lose. My sight slowly grew dim, my thoughts got more numb and simpler. I tried to speak, but it was impossible, as I slowly sunk down onto the cushions, torn between fear and forced relaxation.

The last thing I saw was the face of my master floating somewhere over me, staring down at me with his merciless gaze and the last thing my retracting senses picked up were his mocking words, "Ah, yes, I see the narcotics take their full effect now. Sweet dreams, my child. Do entertain the crowd tomorrow, will you?"

Then, everything went dark.

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On to the Carnival, then.

Stay safe.