I woke to a knock on my door. A middle aged man pushing a cart greeted me when I answered.

“Inquisitor Silver? Requisitions for ya,” he said. I nodded groggily and accepted a small box from the man. “If you’re ever not in, I can drop your stuff off in the chest,” he said, gesturing at my sea chest. “Or I can hold them in the mail room, if’n you prefer.”

“The chest is fine, thank you,” I said. Neither my door nor the chest had locks anyway, so the loss of privacy felt inconsequential.

The man moved on with a nod and I opened the box. Inside was a necklace, a flask, and a few sheets of paper. The note on top read.

For: Inquisitor George Silver

1 Relic of St. Piran (necklace) 1 Flask of Holy water. 2 minor scripture of binding 2 minor scripture of courage

Sir,

To activate the relic, simply hold it and say ‘Piran’. The holy water can be applied directly to your blade or used as needed in sacraments. The scriptures can be affixed to your target using the sealing wax. No need to heat it up, it will react to your intent.

If you have any questions, feel free to ask.

At your service,

-Curate Ben Ramsons

I found the wax at the bottom of the box, four red lumps. It felt warm to the touch and vaguely liquidy. I dug out one of the scraps of paper and read the scripture.

And he seized the dragon, that ancient serpent, who is the devil and Satan, and bound him for a thousand years

The next one had the same, but the third and fourth read:

The Lord is my light and my salvation— whom shall I fear?

The minor scriptures of binding and courage presumably. Hypothetically they would activate when affixed using the red wax. I would have to ask curate Ben exactly what they did when I got a chance.

I got dressed and put the St. Piran necklace on over my chainmail. It hung down to my solar plexus, in easy reach. The holy water and scriptures I packed into my backpack. It would be hard to access them quickly, but I didn’t have much choice. Maybe I should buy some belt pouches?

I went to morning mass, the prayers healing the last of my cuts and bruises, then made my way to the Bitter Flagon. Sarah didn’t show up for breakfast, but Ajax was there.

“I think we should go back to the track,” I said. “Figure out what that merchant, Arthur Green, was up to.”

“What are you going to ask?” Ajax said skeptically. “Do you do business with toothy monsters?”

“We pressure them, maybe make something slip. We know they gave him a pouch. It might be why the Decoction Killer targeted him.”

“That’s what Roach thought he saw. We never found a pouch.” ‘Because I let the evidence go up in smoke’ was left unsaid.

“Still,” I said. “I think figuring out more about the killer’s victims is key to finding him.”

“That’s fair,” Ajax conceded. “But I probably shouldn’t go with you. Things got pretty heated when I tried to convince my boss to raid the track. He might see me going back there as a snub. I’ll go work on that third Alchemical supplier, get his client list.” That settled, we finished our meals and headed out.

The track was muddy from recent rain. There would be a race in a few hours, but for now it was mostly empty. A River Rat named Daja looked up from drawing in the mud and nodded at me as I passed. We had increased the number of watchers since the merchant incident. It was expensive, but our tours into the old city were profitable enough to cover the costs.

At the counter was the same mellow receptionist from the last time I was here.

“How can I help you today, sir?” he asked in his lazy drawl.

“I’m looking for information on a cloth merchant, a man by the name Arthur Green.”

“Doesn’t sound familiar. Would you like to register a horse to race?”

Not this again. “Look, I just want information on Arthur Green. He came here on Saturday and bet on one of the races.”

“Lota folks bet on the races,” he answered with a shrug. I wanted to reach through the metal bars and strangle him.

“Look, I am willing to pay for information.” I held up a shilling. “I just want to know why Mr. Green was given a pouch even though he lost. I’ll pay even more if you know what was in the pouch.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of money,” the receptionist said, but the apathy in his voice put the lie to the comment. “I wish I knew something that could help you.”

“Maybe you could help me with something else.” Something was off with this guy, and I had just the way to test it. I rummaged around in my pack until I had what I needed. Standing, I grabbed the St. Piran relic and whispered “Piran.”

“Sir? Where did you go?” the receptionist asked. I knew it. I waved my other hand in front of the man’s face. No reaction.

Carefully reaching through the bars, I stuck a bit of wax and paper on the clerk’s confused forehead. The wax instantly formed into an intricate seal as the scripture verse lit up. The man, or apparently monster disguised as a man, froze completely. He held perfectly still, as if time had stopped.

I breathed out a sigh of relief. From the name, I had expected the scripture of binding would do something like that, but I hadn’t been sure. Not wasting time, no telling how long it would last, I reached through and tugged at the keys on the creature’s belt.

It took me a moment, but I managed to cut the keys free with my knife. After a few tries to get the right key, I opened the betting booth and started searching for clues. There wasn’t much room in the small booth and I was forced to squeeze past the frozen monster.

I tried to move the creature out of the way, but it was completely imoble. I couldn't even move a hair on its head. The cloths were fair game though, and I riffled through the pockets. I found a coin purse, but not much else.

I searched the rest of the room, but there wasn't much to find. Just a couple of record ledgers, which I grabbed, and a dropbox for cash payments. The dropbox had a combination lock, nothing I could open in a reasonable amount of time.

Finally I opened the door in the back of the betting booth. I knew it led into the squat attached building and expected more records and storage.

So I was surprised to find that the attached room was empty save for a large stone staircase. The stairs were wide enough for a dozen people and went straight down into the rock. In the limited light, I couldn’t see how far down it went, but it was multiple stories at least.

The light was blocked further as a body filled the doorway I had just come through. The receptionist, scripture gone, stared at me with a total lack of expression. His arms were out before him, ready to grab instead of hit.

He slowly took in a deep breath, and roared. The sound hit me like a physical force, deep and loud, not something that should have come from a human body.

I dropped the ledgers to the ground with a thump and whipped out my sword and shield. The monster just stood there, waiting. I rushed forward.

It moved to grab me, but was too focused on my sword. I slammed my shield into its face and activated my remote push for the first time. I instinctively knew where I could place the spell and how to direct it.

I used the spell to pull the receptionist's foot straight towards me and up as my shield struck. The combined force sent the creature crashing into the ground. I chopped down with my sword, driving the blade a few inches into the monster’s skull, but it struggled on, ignoring the length of metal in its brain.

I placed a booted foot on the creature’s chest and ripped my sword free. The creature's head lunged for my foot, lightning quick, but I danced back before it could bite. I had seen that trick before.

The man’s mouth and upper neck had transformed into rows upon rows of needle-like teeth. The teeth hissed and clicked as they undulated and flowed in a circular pattern.

The sight sent a primal shock of fear through me and sweat cooled between my shoulderblades. My hands ached as I gripped my weapons. I forced myself forward, heart pounding, before the creature could stand.

I slammed into it as it tried to get up, driving us both into the betting booth. I cracked it’s head against the iron bars, but had to jump back as the creature tried to wrap around me.

From behind me, echoing up from the stairs, came a distant roar. The sounds of feet on stone.

I stared at the receptionist and it stared back, emotionless. I dove for the door. It tried to cut me off, but I was too fast. Its fingers raked across my chainmail, then I was out and running.

Out of the narrow confines, I opened my stride into a true sprint, flying down the open streets. Leaving the ledgers behind was too bad, but there was no way I was getting trapped in close quarters with multiple of those things.

The sound of pursuit died off after a handful of streets, but I kept running. I took turns at random, sticking to the main streets. I wanted to prevent any chance that they could follow me, but I didn’t know the area well enough to trust the side streets. Knowing my luck I would find a dead end and get cornered.

A long while later, panting and covered in sweat, I came to a stop. For a moment, I thought I was going to lose my breakfast, but eventually my breathing evened out and the nausea passed.

Noticing a lump in my pocket, I pulled out the keys I had taken from the receptionist. Not a total loss then. Time to find Ajax.