Old Reng kept watch over this half of the prison. Differently from his comrade, the Gremlin had an entire box filled with papers covered in notes, and was still scribbling away when he turned to greet him.

As much as efficency and results pleased him, Gorren wasn’t in any mood to read. The familiar weight of exhaustion dragged at his thoughts, begging him to just give it a rest for the day. He pushed it back with disdain. Sometimes, weakness of the mind was nothing but pebbles to be ignored.

“He’s lively, as much as he can be.” Reng told him. The old Gremlin’s face was an overlapping cascade of folds and wrinkles. Still, as sunken and small as they were, his eyes were alight with a keen attention.

Gorren nodded slowly. If Thrax was his second best, Reng held the most of his favour by far. The Gremlin had the perspective that only age could bring, and took obstacles with the resignation of a pumpkin farmer. Skillful, stubborn, and methodical, he made for an excellent assistant, and was the one he trusted the most.

Still, this was something he needed to do by himself.

“I will speak to him.”

The chamber was different from the one of earlier. There was no trace of bars or cages or anything even just giving off the idea of imprisonment. Still, it didn’t change the fact that it was a prison, an awareness che tugged at Gorren’s heart just as much as the invisible shields he had evoked aound himself.

With something approaching wariness, he took in the place.

All in all, it looked like the chamber of a child, with simple toys, scribbled over papers and various things scattered around.

By a side, five barrels of increasing size stood against the wall, breaking the image. The first reached to his thighs, didn’t have a cover and was full with water. The second reached to his chest, the wooden plate that held it shut showed to a side. It was full with a mash of grain and meat. The third was tall enough that he would need a stool to reach its top. The latch that kept it close had been opened, the heavy metal lid pushed aside to reveal a good-smelling, amber liquid. For the forth, not a stool but a ladder would have been necessary. The lid’s latch was reinforced with a round lock that showed lines and curves on its metal surface. It could be opened by rotating the central setion, so that the lines connected together. It was open, hanging over the barrel’s content: blueberries, slices of apples, alongside vegetables and other fruits mixed together. The last barrel was so tall that it almost scraped the ceiling. A complicated-looking mechanism fitted at its center acted as a lock, a more complicated version of the previous one. This one was still closed.

Gorren noticed how wooden blocks had been piled up at the base of the taller barrels to make for makeshift ladders.

His intelligence grows by leaps and bounds.

Just beside the barrels, a strange mix between a stout bed and an animal shelter made for the place’s sleeping quarter. Straw had been piled up on the floor beside it, much of it stuffed under the thin mattress. The blankets, stained and full of hair, had been arranged into an awkward form of order.

Wooden blocks, similar to those piled up as ladders, dotted the place, formed up there and then into small mounds.

Gorren briefly glanced at one that resembled a piramid, then swept his gaze around. The place looked desert, but he wasn’t fooled.

His eyes fixed on the bed itself, and he frowned.

Advancing toward it, he became aware of a soft rustling sound, like of fur being rubbed over wood. His frown deepened.

Putting a hand against the bed, he leaned to watch under it.

There was a small, furry form there, huddled between straw and shadow and scattered papers. It was working over something, Gorren noticed, hunched and focused.

He hesitated for a moment, feeling like an intruder, then drummed his fingers against the bed frame.

The furry form stiffened, then turned to him. Two gem-like eyes glowed in the gloom. Gorren heard a sharp breath.

Knowing that he had his attention now, he drew back.

The furry form followed quickly, shuffling out of its hiding spot to stand awkwardly before him.

Gorren watched him.

The creature was squat and stout, even if somewhat chubby. It had the appeareance of a cat-sized rat, but stood on two legs like a human. Thick, gray fur covered him from head to toes, apart from the pink nose and tail. Thick breeches, a colorless and sleveeless tunic and the fact that he was barefoot only increased the strange human-animal hybrid impression.

He stood awkwardly, his gaze moving between his toes, the floor or to throw quick peeks at him. His long tail nervously swished behind him. With his strangely (for a rat) furred hands, he anxiously clutched a paper to his chest.

Gorren watched him from head to toe, and then back.

He was unsure of what to do. The bad feeling that something similar at what happened with the fire-child might happen here as well didn’t help him.

Making sure that none of that appeared on his face, he took a mental sigh. For once, he felt the age he had.

He gestured for the bed.

“Shall we sit?”

The rat jumped, then hurried to obey, mechanically plopping down the shoddy mattress.

Gorren watched him for a moment, seeking for signs of danger. The general impression he received was: might as well seeking the same from a baby in a cradle. Bound with ropes. Under a pile of rocks.

He sat beside the rat.

No, he has a name.

“Argus.” He began, turning at him. Argus made a hesitant sound of aknowledgement and shifted a little, but didn’t meet his gaze, fiddling with the edges of his paper.

Gorren could see the Mana graviting around him, heavy with power. Not powerful like him, but powerful indeed.

“How are your new quarters?” He asked. “Do you like them?”

Keeping his gaze lowered, Argus nodded quickly.

“Did you like your food?”

Another quick nod.

Gorren repressed a surge of frustration. Might as well be trying to talk to a rock.

At unease, he stood up and started to walk back and forth. Inside of him, amazement mixed with frustration mixed with guilt, the last the most difficult to aknowledge.

He tried not to get attached to people. Attachments were just a can of worms and distractions. But the same he didn’t do with his pets. Argus was his favorite by far, and he had planned to make him his familiar. He had hand-reared him, showered him with his affection and, in the end, got attached to him. From that, the irritating mix of hesitation and guilt that he felt.

Argus had been brave, put his life on the line for him, and he had repaid him by locking him up. Scruples weren’t things he usually concerned himself with, but that was special. He had given him his affection already. It didn’t help that now he didn’t know how to treat him. Before, he was his aspirant familiar. Now… he wasn’t sure what Argus was anymore.

Following the disaster, he had mutated, taking that form. Gorren knew of the existence of were-rats, rare as they were, but the type didn’t apply to him. Argus was… different, in the spirit if not in the body. His mind had evolved to human levels of intelligence and his power had grown as well. He suspected that the mutation had been kickstarted by the strong use he had made of his power during the fight with the fire-child. Since they shared the influence from the Crux, it was another insight.

That, plus the precedent set by the fire-child, plus the chance that the mutation could have altered his mind, plus his rising power, had made containment the most obvious of solutions. It didn’t lessen his guilt, though.

He didn’t bother to repress a sigh when he sat back down again.

In theory, he needed to assess Argus’ mental state and his attitude toward him. In practice, it was difficult. A part of him, that he refused to listen to, feared that the rat could hate him, another was in fear for his strange condition. The problems of becoming attached.

Even pets are traitorous now.

He pushed back the thought with a mental scoff. Ridiculous. That was but an one-time happening.

Glancing at the were-rat, he found him in the same awkwardeness of earlier.

Gorren bit the inside of his cheek. Did Argus hate him? That was why he didn’t talk to him?

An Archmage, fretting over the chance that a rat might hate him. So pathetic, Gorren An-Tudok.

Repulsing that thought, he glanced at the paper Argus was clutching.

“Have you been writing?” The slight marvel in the question wasn’t faked. He hadn’t taught him anything of the sort. He found the thought foolish a moment after having formulated it. Of course he couldn’t have been writing. He had been drawing.

Argus jumped a little, turning at him with surprise. His expression quickly turned to hesitation as the little creature alternated glancing between him and his paper.

The question slipped out before Gorren could stop it.

“Can i see it?”

Argus clutched the paper tighter, then nodded, without looking at him. Slowly, he handed him the paper.

Gorren took him, a strange sense of curiosity and awe roiling inside him.

The drawing was just something that a child could have done, scrabblings made with coals. Still, Gorren couldn’t mistake the beard, the saw teeth and the hooked nose, nor he could mistake the small creature with the rat-like head. They held hands and smiled towards him.

He felt something tear up a bit inside.

Argus fidgeted, nervously watching for his reactions.

Gorren opened his mouth, then closed it.

“It’s… very pretty.” He managed to say at the second attempt.

He passed the drawing back to Argus, that took it with a surprised expression. He looked at his work with hesitation for a moment, then clutched it to his chest and smiled at him, hesitantly.

Smiling wasn’t something Gorren was very used to. Smirking and sneering, yes. Cackling, sure. Smiling, not really. He just hadn’t got many chances for it, especially from the beginning of all that crazy adventure.

Still, now he felt it come on its own.

“Thank you.” He just said, and even keeping his voice straight for that single word was quite the trial.

He patted him, making him startle a little. But then Argus smiled, wide and true and radiant, his tail waggling happily.

Gorren chuckled, feeling amused and moved. It looked like he was wrong. Argus didn’t hate him. In fact, it probably was the opposite. Maybe Argus thought that he was the one that hated him, for some reason he couldn’t fathom, and thought to placate him with his drawing. But that was only a conjecture of course. He couldn’t know for sure what moved inside of that little head.

Still, that was… something. Something indeed.

He took a breath, calming himself.

“I need to make some examinations.” He said. “Will you let me?”

Still wearing that happy expression, Argus nodded quickly.

Gorren took his small paw between his hands and focused. With the utmost attention, he scanned Argus’ Mana, seeking for instabilities.

Mutations were tricky business. Kickstarted artificially, they could be executed in matters of months and, if the mage supervising knew what he was doing, to a certain degree of safety for the subjects involved. In exchange, they were usually less potent than what could be accomplished by nature.

On the other side, natural mutations were rare and dangerous, requiring long years of exposure to raw, concentrated Mana, with duration of the process changing based on the race involved. Under it, a goblin could develop magic powers or even become a giant, but there was the same chance for him to just liquefy into a foul-smelling puddle or explode in a fireball. And even when the result wasn’t death, the truly stable advancements were rare and far in between. It was a dangerous, tricky business, and the reason why Truvia’s policy about source of potential mutations was to scour the area of any inhabitants and seal it against any newcomer.

Gorren had had Argus under examination for days, and that personal control only confirmed what the data had already informed him of. The were-rat underwent a natural mutation in a matter of days, with the result being one of the most stable he had ever seen in centuries. Not only that, the mutation had given him power, so much that it was noteworthy even for one of his caliber and experience.

Frowning, he let go Argus’ paw and put a hand over his head. The small were-rat fidgeted a little, worried, but otherwise didn’t protest.

Gorren focused again, this time over the structure of the mind of Argus.

Mutation could cause wildly unpredictable results even to the mind, altering thoughts pathways and instincts. He had seen orcs, swelled to prodigious size by years of living under drips of liquid Mana, surge to such heights of aggression that even their brutal brethren couldn’t condone their rampage. Or animals, having lost the instinct to hunt, eventually collapse under the work of starvation. And much, much more.

Still, nothing of the sort he found inside Argus’ mind. His thoughts were regular, his pathways the same of any human being.

“Fascinating.” He murmured, drawing back his hand.

It was the Crux’s work, or, better, its influence. But how it worked? Why had it touched just Argus? How…

Argus whimpered, at unease, and he shook himself from that train of thoughts, realizing that he had been staring at him all that time.

“Oh! It’s all okay, don’t worry.” He reassured him, patting him.

Argus said nothing, but he felt it push against his hand a tiny bit.

Gorren smiled, and gestured.

A soft breeze whipped across the chamber, picking at the largest barrel. The lock clacked and opened, the wind pushing aside the lid to retrieve what it was inside and bring it Gorren’s waiting palm.

Argus blinked at the small bar of chocolate, then to Gorren’s amused smile.

“Here.” The mage broke the bar in two, handing a piece to Argus.

The were-rat blinked again, then took it with his tiny paws. He watched him with an expression that was a mix between surprised and quizzical.

“Half, because this time i helped you.” Gorren chided him. “But half because you’ve been a good boy.” He patted him, smiling. “And thank you for the drawing.”

Argus watched him for a moment still, then lowered his gaze, looking embarassed, but still happy.

They remained in comfortable silence for some time, just enjoying each other‘s presence.

But eventually, duty reasserted itself, and Gorren got up.

“Gotta go now.” He said.

Argus’ ears flopped down, but he didn’t object. Still, he scooted behind him until they reached the wall.

“You have to be patient just a little more.” Gorren told him. “Soon, i will get you out of here.”

Argus’ nod was quick and sure. The were-rat didn’t doubt him, hadn’t done it not even for a second.

The last sight that Gorren had of Argus was the little were-rat waving a tiny paw towards him, an hopeful smile on his face.

Then the Kor closed, and he found himself staring at the black wall, the sudden silence pressing coldly over him.

Gorren took a breath. Well, compared to what he had expected, that had been… different.

Poor little guy…

He rubbed his chin, feeling the warmth left by the meeting mix with guilt. He really wanted to say that he had told him the truth, but things weren’t so easy. Argus would need to remain contained at least for some time, until he was ompletely sure that the mutation had ran its course.

Not the time to let emotions affect my judgement.

Still, at least for now, his fealty was without a doubt. He was just the little creature he had hand-reared, loyal, true and, well, his little guy, he supposed.

He couldn’t risk anything happen to him.

Still, the chance that the mutation would keep going, and who knew where, was still present. If only he could understand…

The realization hit him like a thunderbolt, and he snapped his fingers.

“Of course!” He said. “How did i not think about that?”

His blood.

During the escape from the barn, he had wounded himself to leave that offering. It had been an action spurned by the rush of the moment. He had given in to feelings, feeling that he was bound to repay what he was taking from that farm with something, and also that the thought of kidnapping a child had traversed his mind.

Thinking about it with lucidity, it had clearly been a childish thing, but that was beside the point now. His blood, the finger he had wounded. He had grabbed the mice just after that. Maybe, before the wound closed, some drops of blood had fallen over the mice? Maybe… maybe it was that the reason why Argus had undergone that mutation? Had he somehow inherited his ongoing connection with the Crucible by inbibing his blood?

It was just a conjecture, but it would explain much. Also, another insight. In his body, in the fire-child’s existence, in Argus’ mutation. It was all connected, he was sure of it!

Excitement for the discovery was already rising in him, when another detail stopped him stone cold.

Wait a moment. If Argus has obtained sentience and then mutated into this form because of my blood… that would make him… my son as well?

It was an harrowing thought, but he couldn’t find any fault in it. Sentience was the true gift og parents to their sons. If he had been the one to give it to him…

Gorren facepalmed.

Seriously? Not just one. Two?

Him, that had always rejected the notion of family in the name of his research, now he had to be saddled with two creatures?

A small voice in his head contradicted him. That’s not true, Gorren An-Tudok, he said. You allowed yourself to have a family once already. And look how it has finished. Will it be any different this time?

“Silence.” He growled, shaking his head.

Once again, he was letting emotions affect his judgement. A son and a daughter… it wasn’t something that could be decided on a whim. He would need to think about it, assess the question, understand if that was the case or not.

And if it was, well, that was to be seen yet!

A fire-disaster and a rat! As if!

He did his best to ignore the lingering, but still strong, emotions the two meetings had evoken into him.