Asrael was overjoyed to awaken alone in his chamber- free to extend his arms in either direction on the bed and take a deep, unnecessary breath of the rented room’s stale air. There was a freshness to the atmosphere now that the harlot no longer plagued him with her constant presence- a freshness that allowed him undisturbed thoughts for what felt like the first time in years... The first time in his life beyond life. As soon as he rose from the bed; he stepped over towards the desk and began collecting his scattered thoughts. The white-haired whore still unnerved him, but for now; he could accept the mystery she represented- he had no choice but to, as getting to her would be next to impossible- her gift aside; she lived deep inside the Inquisition's garrison... First and foremost; he had to plan his vengeance. It only took him a minute or so to appreciate the world’s efforts to have him squander his opportunity the previous night, as simply killing the man or rather; turning him into one of his soldiers would be far too easy. No; if he were to repay the good General for his perversions, then he, too, would submerge himself in the world’s depravities and repay him in full. Simply killing the children was too good for them. The sin they had inherited from their demonic father required another form of justice- he would crush him by the use of these wayward children. One by one; he would take them, undo all their father had charged them with and finally; turn them to his cause... ultimately; he wanted to see the Empire’s ashes blot out the sun and it would all start with Pilta. With Titus.

He descended the stairs and made his way back into the kitchen, where he stole his way into the cellar to inspect his calm workplace. From here; he could see most of the first floor through the cracks in the wood, but more importantly; he could escape through one of the hatches in the back, should he require it. It was as he inspected the bricked and cobbled walls that he came upon a discrepancy- a noticeable fresher partition than the rest of the ancient bricks. He lay a hand upon the tunnel and correctly observed that said partition was colder than the rest- meaning that there was something behind the wall.

“What are you doing down here!? Get out!” Kester shouted from up the stair.

Asrael raised an eyebrow towards the man and shook his head. “I think not. Tell me of this wall.” The necromancer demanded- further upsetting the frowning tavernkeeper.

“No, fuck off and get out- this isn’t your room.” And here Asrael had thought the two could maintain a civil tone.

The necromancer crossed his arms and spoke threateningly; “I like this cellar. One can see many things from here- amongst others; young pyromancers doing their father’s bidding... tell me; do you oftentimes rely on her assistance with menial tasks?” Kester fell deathly silent as the realization dawned on him. Asrael could hear an audible gulp from up the stair before the man’s heavy steps revealed his shape- his knife-wielding, muscled frame and a glare that could kill.

“That wall hides a tunnel my ancestors used to smuggle alcohol in during the prohibition. I’m last in a long line of hard-asses that won’t hesitate to protect my business.” He raised the knife threateningly towards his only guest, but it did little to dishearten the vengeful necromancer.

“I see.” Asrael spoke and let the magic flow to the muscles of his left hand. With any luck; the workmanship of the construed wall would prove as shoddy as the rest of the place. Following a loud clatter of crushed rocks and the outwards-exploding wall; Kester dropped the knife to the floor and took a step back. The necromancer had likely broken every bone in his hand, wrist and arm, but it had been well worth the point it had made. Kester looked to the demolished wall in terror and pondered the monstrosity of the stranger- a man capable of crushing stones with naught but the power of his long, thin arm.

Asrael struggled not to convey his pain and calmly questioned his host; “I take it these ‘tunnels’ are the ones that run beneath the entire city- yes?” Kester took a step back and tripped on the stairs with a nod.

Asrael immediately set his attention on healing the broken appendage with a muttered command; “Good. Now; if you value your daughter’s life, this bar and of course; your testicles- you will submit yourself to me. With any hope, you will prove more useful than my previous lackey, which reminds me... where is the fat one?” Before Kester could answer; two sets of hurried footsteps sounded from above and to Asrael’s disheartening surprise; a familiar, long-legged beauty appeared to stare at him and the wall in turn.

He narrowed his eyes as she stepped over the splayed-out man on the stairs and asked her; “Why are you still here? You should be on your way to whatever safe-haven that fool has prepared for the rest of you weakly, cowardly magi!” Neda’s bewilderment at the sight of the broken wall immediately faded away as she received Asrael’s scrutiny.

She met his glare with one of her own and corrected; “I’m not going anywhere, asshole! I never agreed to leaving and besides... you can’t decide where I stay and where I go.”

He rounded on her and slapped his forehead into hers to warn; “Yes I can! Go find that man and tell him to remove you from my sight or I will make certain-”

Surprisingly; there was no trace of the timid creature he had met out in the desert- not when she raised a finger to his chin and spoke threateningly; “Or you’ll what? You already taught me I’m not a dog! I won’t follow your orders- not yours, not anyone’s!”

He took a step back from her to furiously rub his face with his broken appendage in a bout of frustration. “I taught you something different- you are supposed to obey me! Magic- give me the strength to survive this insufferable woman...” He muttered. After a brief pause; he confidently turned to remind her; “You have no funds to pay for a room. Do you hear that, tavernkeeper? You’ve a freeloader on your hands- an annoying, loud-mouthed, disrespectful freeloader.” Neda crossed her arms and scoffed.

“I’ve got gold... besides; if I need more I’ll become a whore.” He televised his stumped surprise for a brief moment, before chuckling his bemusement at her.

“And who, you ingrate, would pay for these services? As soon as you’d open that foul mouth of yours; even the rugged sailors would seek to escape you!”

This did little to sway her, in fact; she seemed almost strengthened by his insult. She touched her fists to her hips before stating; “I’d sell myself to you. I’ve seen you looking, y’know. I’m not sure how much it’s worth, but Barrel said he’d help me.” Before he could protest, a groan sounded from inside the tunnel- reminding him why he had come down there in the first place.

Kester screamed as he saw a tall, disgusting, naked, filthy, pale and desecrated corpse shamble through the wide opening to stand in the middle of the room and glare his green eyes at the tavernkeeper. Inconveniences aside... Asrael could tell his luck would soon be turning. All he needed do... was make more of them.