Leona reached for her mug of caffeine and took a sip, savoring its bitter scent and flavor.

“Field Operative Stefka. Has Raksha’s account been accurate so far?” she asked.

“Yes, Great Lady,” the necromancer said, from her seat in the far corner of the interrogation chamber, behind the martial scientist and the sorceress.

“Ha!” Sadea looked over her shoulder at Stefka. “So you admit you’ve not been getting laid!”

The necromancer underwent a visible yet ultimately successful struggle in curbing her urge to speak out of turn.

Leona glanced briefly down at her notes, then looked up at Raksha. “You rushed headlong into battle, without any hesitation or thought for compensation. Why? Are you a berserker, drunk on murder-lust?”

The martial scientist’s jaw tightened. “No.”

“Really?” Leona put her mug down and pulled out a stack of papers from Raksha’s dossier. “You have a reputation, you know?”

“What?”

“Ooh, yes, what?” Sadea leaned forward, her eyes bright. “Spill it.”

Leona glared at the sorceress until she shrank back, averted her gaze, and mumbled a “please, Great Lady.”

“In this province, among others, you are known as one half of the Bloodstorm Duo, a two-person mercenary team with a kill-count of nearly fifteen thousand, targets and incidentals included, over a one-year period. You butchered entire regiments of armed warriors, thousands of fellow mercenaries, and at least sixty other martial scientists,” Leona said, enjoying the look of pained guilt in Raksha’s eyes. “You and your partner waded through veritable lakes of blood. Surviving eyewitnesses, of whom there are few, described you both as ravaging berserkers, with infinite capacities for violence. What do you have to say about that?”

After many moments of silence, Raksha spoke. “I don’t like the nickname. And I don’t do that anymore.”

“Damn right, he doesn’t,” Sadea interjected. “The big oaf is all about some code or waffling nonsense, or at least he was while we were down there. Slowed us down. Wasn’t helpful at all. Which is why this is all his fault, Great Lady.”

“Code?” Leona asked.

Raksha looked away.

“Great Lady, if I may,” Stefka said. “I believe Sadea might be referring to the Ancient Code, a creed some martial scientists profess to follow.”

“I know what the Ancient Code is,” Leona snapped. “It is naive stupidity. Only the weak-minded take it seriously.”

Raksha returned her glare, his regard unwavering. “I don’t care what you think.”

“The Ancient Code is at odds with your known modus operandi.” Leona scattered a stack of psi-graphs onto the desk, their coarse cardboard backings scraping against the steel surface. Colored ink capturing psychic impressions of past events, they depicted scenes of total, unfettered bloodshed and butchery. “Here are some examples of your handiwork. Do you expect me to believe that someone capable of this abides by the tenets of the Ancient Code?”

Sadea whistled as she looked over the psi-graphs. “That’s impressive. There’s got to be about fifty people all chopped into pieces in this one alone. The big idiot here actually did all this? Uh, Great Lady.”

“He did. Is that not right, Raksha?”

Gritting his teeth, the martial scientist nodded, with tremendous reluctance. “Yes. Yet still, I follow the Ancient Code. Believe it or not, I don’t care.”

“Hold yourself with honor. Succor those in need. Such are the tenets of the Ancient Code,” Leona recited. “Vague suggestions open to all interpretations and every form of abuse. I’ve seen Wu Dang Sword Masters use the Code to justify their massacres on more than one occasion. Of course, you could follow the Code and still be one of the Bloodstorm Duo.”

“No. There is no… I am not…” Raksha sighed. “There is no duo. Not anymore.”

“I am aware of that, too.” Leona tapped the dossier. “My spies have put together very comprehensive files on you, Raksha.”

“You’re from House Belisarius, right?” he asked.

“Yes. I believe I’ve already introduced myself. This province has recently come under the dominance of House Belisarius, and our Patriarch has appointed me, Leona Belisarius, as Interim Governor, pending my official confirmation as the region’s Hegemonic Lord by the Church.”

“Ah. The Yagyu. They’re your spies.” Raksha frowned and drummed his fingers on the steel surface of the desk.

Leona pursed her lips at Raksha’s casual mention of her household vassals. The Yagyu Clan was sworn to the service of House Belisarius and had been so for at least a thousand years. His dossier documented his involvement in a crucial Yagyu operation several years ago, so of course Raksha would know of them and their connection to House Belisarius.

“Would you like to know where she is, now?” she asked, seeking to further disconcert Raksha. “The other half of the Bloodstorm Duo, I mean.”

Moments went by in silence. Eventually, Raksha replied. “No.”

“Very well.” Leona looked down at her notes. “We have been sidetracked. I return to the topic of your conduct in battle. Explain yourself. Why did you charge headlong into combat against the unsanctioned corpses, without negotiating compensation beforehand?”

“I saw people in danger. I helped.”

“Because the Ancient Code demands it?”

“Sure.”

“And your murder-lust and berserker tendencies weren’t factors here, or in the destruction of the mortuary plant?”

Raksha folded his arms and glared at her in defiant silence. Leona considered ordering his summary execution right there and then.

“Great Lady, I’m not defending the big, dumb brute here, but I just want to set the record straight,” Sadea said, pointing at the other dossier beside Raksha’s. “You have access to my service record, both as a Church asset and as a freelancer. I have fought and killed many berserk and blood-mad foes. Raksha is nothing like them. In fact, if he were more like them and less wishy-washy with his stupid code, things probably wouldn’t have turned out like this, and we wouldn’t be in such trouble.”

“Explain.”

And so, Sadea spoke.