The searches proved what I expected them to and some extra useful information. Two corpses of young women who had been strangled to death with a cord of some sort were found right in the bed of Sir Anton Thorn and several ointments and medicines intended to soothe or combat infections of the genitals were found in his bedside cabinets.

Lord Oswald Renauld's home was described as rather ordinary, though somewhat foul-smelling. The basement of his home was described as an uncooled slaughterhouse. Several other descriptions painted a suitable image for me. I wouldn't put it beyond Lord Renauld to claim he had just taken up butchering as a hobby but the tools found and positions he arranged his meat in would be inexcusable should rumours spread. I even have images captured using some impossibly complex technology from Mentus though they only contain varying shades of grey, look like an incredibly abstract art piece and if I dip a corner of the paper one is printed on in water the entire image dissolves into a vague smear of grey in seconds.

Sir Damon Steel's house was rather different. Now obviously he wasn't pleasuring himself with amputated hands and decapitated heads, I just assumed him to be using them as macabre decoration intended to entertain guests but I had his dwelling searched out of curiosity anyway. After some investigating, the guards found a room with a brazier at its center, the hands had been arranged in such a way that they appeared to be holding the skulls. Three skulls were arranged around the brazier, each precisely half a foot away from it, their jaws had been removed and placed atop their heads like crowns.

The original plan was to merely blackmail the two deviants and let Steel decorate his home however he so pleases but this odd shrine piqued my interest so now I sit in my chambers skimming through the reports and captured images awaiting Sir Steel's presence.

He enters my chambers almost as soon as the clock ticks over to half past six. Sir Steel has always been a rather punctual fellow. Allegedly he was once legendary at murdering men on the field of battle but that was before the sinking of the destroyers, when he had two hands and a left foot.

"Good morning Sir," I say, smiling widely. "Please take a seat."

I stand up and pull out a chair for him to save him the humiliation of fumbling with the wooden lumps the carpenters had the audacity to refer to as hands.

"Good morning to you too, my prince."

"Would you care to explain your little shrine to me?" I inquire after returning to my seat on the opposite side of my desk, delicately placing a captured image in front of him.

"Why? Why not just burn me at the stake and be done with it?" Sir Steel queries, not trying to provoke me into ending him quickly, just genuinely curious.

"There's a very simple reason for why not," I begin. "The many many laws against black magic, charms and other such occultism were made and imposed by cowards who fear what happened in Cruentia centuries ago and I plan to change them soon after my crowning which should only be a few days away."

"So you mean to tell me-"

"You shan't be burned, branded, cut or even bruised," I cut across him. "However, I'm still interested in this shrine."

"What do you want to know?"

"There are several men who all testify you purchased fifty sets of skulls, hands and hearts in these past two months, forty seven skulls and hands have been found, where might be everything else?"

"Crumbled to ash after conducting the essence of the void."

I stare at him blankly for a few moments before asking. "Could you explain that in further detail please?"

"I detached their jaws and carved four runes of the dark into them and placed them atop the skulls much like this," he taps one of the captured images with his prosthetic, " and for a brief few seconds the void spoke through them."

"Why did you do this?"

"To find out what will happen and when."

"The void predicted the future for you?"

"In a way, yes."

"And might you be able to tell me why it performed this service for you?"

"A service for a service," Sir Steel says rather plainly. "It feasted upon the hearts and then spoke to me through the skulls."

"When did this interest in the occult begin?" I redirect the conversation to a topic that might get me more understandable answers.

"The sinking of the black knight," Sir Steel says distantly. "When I watched those three hundred men get dragged beneath those murky waters I saw a darkness creep out of their bodies before being snatched down to the deepest depths of the sea."

"And how did it go from there?" I inquire after an uncomfortable period of silence.

"I started with just drowning whores, street urchins, beggars, whoever wouldn't be missed but when that failed to yield results I started paying to have ships sabotaged," Sir Steel says calmly as if this could be considered a completely normal topic of conversation. I consider breaking the promise I made mere moments ago. "I must have watched hundreds, perhaps even thousands get dragged down on pleasure boats, sunk to the very bottom of the sea."

"And did this yield any results?" I sigh rubbing my temples

"Not the one I was searching for," Sir Steel admits, "but my actions attracted the attention of certain figures. People sought me out, claiming to want to mentor me, assist me in my endeavors. Of course some were mere charlatans, idiots scattering chicken bones and staring at steaming guts, others were petty thieves believing me to be some common simpleton, stealing from my manse and demanding funding for their rituals but one man who sought me out spoke only truthfully."

"And what did this man speak of?"

"Many things my prince, the void, the stars, the moons, he taught me about them, showed me how to channel them using bone and ritual, showed me how to do this." He jabs a wooden finger at one of the captured images.

I take a piece of paper out of one of the desk drawers, a dip pen and begin to scribble, keeping my writing deliberately sloppy enough to ensure the good sir Steel can't read it.

"What is the name of this man?"

"I cannot say my prince," Sir Steel hesitantly claims. "He never shared it and the one time I asked her only met me with a burning stare."

"That's a shame," I say, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice. "Do you still maintain contact with this man?"

"He arrives at my manse at seemingly random dates, my prince, at least three times a year."

"And might you be able to get a letter to this man before one of these random visits or give me an address where he might be found?"

"Unfortunately such a thing would be impossible, my prince."

"Might I ask why it is so?"

"Much like his name he never gave a home address, place of work, the name of any colleague, didn't even imply he had colleagues now that I remember."

"So you mean to tell me despite this man lacking a name, address, family, friends and anything else that could be used to find him or information about him you let this man into your manse? Allowed him to drag corpses through your halls and had him cut them up in what I presume was once a dining room?"

"As absurd as it may seem, my prince, I swear to you on our gods that it's the truth."

"Swearing on a body part, family member, sum of wealth or anything else that can be removed from you would impose much greater consequence should you have been speaking false," I yawn. "I can hardly separate you from your faith."

"It isn't meant to be-"

"How many times has this man contacted you this year?"

"Twice my prince."

"Well when he makes the third visit you will tell him that I wish to discuss some matters with him. You will then give him this," I fold up my quickly scribbled letter, seal it with the royal insignia and hold it up for Steel to see.. "After he leaves your manse you will come straight to castle black and demand to see me regardless of my location or the hour, should some guard or nobleman doubt the urgency of the meeting simply inform them that I will take my hunting knife and skin them living at my earliest convenience should you be delayed any further. Is everything understood?"

"It is my prince. However if you don't mind my asking, what information does the letter hold?"

"I do mind your asking," I say calmly. "It is for the eyes of your unnamed… mentor and for his eyes only. If I discover anyone else has read these words I assure you it'll be the last thing they'll ever read and it will be a rather disappointing thing to lose one's life over."

"Understood, my prince. Forgive me for-"

"You are forgiven," I sigh. "Now you may go about your day, I apologize for any inconveniences this has caused you."

"It is no inconvenience to serve you my prince," Sir Steel replies, "I truly believe you'll be a much better king than your father would have been, meaning no disrespect of course, it's just that Harris methods were-"

"My childhood was built on disrespect," I say as I hand the letter to Sir Steel. "I've learned when it's meant and when it's not."

I rise from my seat and escort the good sir to the door.

When my hand touches the knob I turn to Sir Steel and say, "one last thing I forgot to mention."

"What may I assist you with, my prince?"

"Don't carve up any more corpses," I say calmly staring at him.

"Of course not my prince, I wouldn't wish to irk-"

"If this incident repeats itself you'll wish you were dragged down with those three hundred men on the black knight, you'll wish that the salt stung your eyes, the cold chilled your flesh to the bone, the water filled your lungs, you'll wish it all went dark. Am I understood?"

"You are my prince," the sir answers hesitantly.

"Have a pleasant day then," I say, smiling as I open the door for him.

He mumbles some farewell too hastily for me to properly catch before scurrying away like some pitiful rodent. I close the door and return to my chair.

Behind me is a door to the balcony from which I can watch most of eastern Lutom. It's not a particularly pretty sight, smoke pours up into the sky from the factory chimneys, people run through the streets going about their business like ants in a colony all rushing to serve their purpose. Grandfather probably assigned these chambers to inconvenience me, birds are overly fond of blocking the stove's chimney making it so I must endure the chill until the bravest chimney boy clambers up there to resolve the issue. When the stove is properly functioning the cold is merely irking in summer, in winter appendages could turn black in here unless you hold them in flames. The room's placement ensures I'm woken early by Martin screaming at the recruits in the training field and on the seventh day of every week I'm woken when the moon is at its apex by Bishop Gerard warding off evil with his prayers to his dearest thorn god.I spend most my nights in the fight pits, brothels or taverns instead. When he does sleep Brother Martin does it in the barracks with the royal guards, I don't believe cousin Terrence has ever slept in chambers that were his own and I don't particularly care about the affairs of my other relatives to know about the chambers they occupy but I guarantee they all have better insulated ones than mine and possess much more intriguing views. Over the years I've grown used to watching the most repugnant section of my kingdom, I've grown to see beauty within all that squalor, soon I'll be king of it all and I plan to drag diamonds from this muck kicking and screaming.