Mordai sat in his office, annoyance rolling over him like a tide. It had been a few ten-days now since Bernard—or rather Kryrial's—return. He was living in the lap of luxury, but he was still living like a dog.

He glanced to the roll of parchments on the table and thought about lighting them ablaze. He knew how powerful those papers were, and the more he thought about it, the angrier he grew. Handing the Syndicate those papers was handing the Syndicate a power it had envied for years. An advantage they had schemed, plotted and likely even killed for. Sylvestris would arrive, demand the papers, insult him, and leave. Mordai knew he would offer no thanks, and no fair treatment. No. It won't go that way this time. He told himself, as an idea came to him.

Kryrial was gone again, and he only ever returned in the evenings. Mordai did not understand his movements or whereabouts, but he knew one thing: he still wanted the location of those caves that Kryrial had searched for. Something was hidden there. Unimaginable wealth, maybe. Or more magic to rival that of the book he held. Bernard had been more secretive than anyone knew, before he had outed him, and Mordai was too curious of the king's intentions to leave the caves in the past. Maybe, if he was lucky, those caves would hold something that could free him from his predicament.

He glanced to his hands in disgust as he remembered the order to search out the Varsly heirs, and he remembered as Kryrial had insisted he watch their slaughter. Only three were alive, still. Kieneltra was missing. But Colin and Web both lived in secret in the palace. Under a mirage of spells so strong that their minds could not even identify the danger they were in. Mordai was unsure if he should think of them like guard-dogs or prisoners. Were they naught more than slaves?

Only three, of thirteen heirs. He shuddered.

Whatever Kryrial had done to their minds defied even Mordai's understanding of the charming and mind breaking magics. What was Kryrial? Not human, not demon, no cross in between. Still, despite his days of research, his nights of scouring his prized and powerful book, he had no clue what Kryrial, this fiery and ruthless king, truly was. He had asked both Colin and Web, but neither had deigned him important enough to reply, or they could not, of that he was still unsure. He only knew now that he needed to unravel Kryrial's goals. And for that, he needed to find those caves.

Before he could further process his thoughts, his office door opened and the bald head of Sylvestris strutted through the doorway like a rooster that knew not that he was to be the night's dinner. Mordai glanced across the various enchantments across Sylvestris' clothes and held back his sneer.

"Good evening," Sylvestris said, not even deigning to speak his name. "Do you have my papers?"

Mordai did not let his muscles stiffen. Instead, he bowed his head and smiled. "Of course. But I thought you and I might have a drink and converse? We have grown rather sour these past days." He gestured to the chair across from him, and let no hint of his beguiling magic touch his words, as he saw the ring on Sylvestris' finger.

The magic of the item sang to Mordai, since he kept his prized book at his side, and he knew without a doubt that the ring was what would save Sylvestris' mind from his charms.

Sylvestris sat and gave Mordai an evil smirk as a glass of wine was poured for him. It was clear he enjoyed the servitude. "Things might not be so sour, if you had kept your promises to the Syndicate, and knew better than to step out of line."

Mordai feigned chagrin as he sat back in his chair. "I did not mean to step out of line, and I broke no vows to the Syndicate."

Sylvestris snorted. "Bending the rules for your own gain could be perceived as much the same thing."

Mordai only shook his head. "I only did what any other man in a position such as mine might have done. You yourself might envy the same throne I now hold."

Sylvestris drank his wine with a sneer. "You only covet this high place you now hold, because of the face value it gives to you. Had you listened, and kept to your training, you might have earned much the same, without so much.... distrust."

"Because trust is what holds our organization together, hmm?" Mordai raised one eyebrow. Information—especially the incarcerating kind—and money, was what held the Syndicate together, and he knew it.

"We know better than to step out of line. Imagine the backlash had you ruined any important plans."

"Imagine the struggle to procure these papers, had I not been here to hand them to you." Mordai stopped himself, and sighed, cowing his head. "I do not wish to argue, my friend. I only seek to right the wrongs I have done to you, and our fine friends within the Syndicate." He pulled the parchments forward and handed them to Sylvestris with the posture of a beaten animal.

Sylvestris sniffed and unrolled the parchments, looking them over with a cretinous eye.

Mordai glanced to the door, and his left hand brushed over the book at his side. His spell was so subtle that only he saw the lock on the door turn and latch shut. He turned his gaze up to the pinched face of Sylvestris. It was as if the man struggled to read anything written in such a fine hand. "Now that you have your papers, would you grace me with the knowledge of those caves you once spoke about?" Say no, he pleaded internally, as his hand reached for the knife concealed in his vest.

"Why would I trust the vagrant who so easily shows he will defy authority, with information such as that? And why, Mordai, do you still have so much interest in affairs you do not understand?"

Sylvestris' hand was still outstretched across the parchment, and the ring that had caught Mordai's attention before was within easy reach.

"I only attempt to aid us both. I wish to appease my curiosity, and further the cause."

Sylvestris did not look up from his reading. "You will learn your place once again, before anyone in the Syndicate will honor you with knowing which type of shit you have stepped in."

The knife came free of its sheath with a whisper of sound, and Mordai stabbed it down from where he sat. There was a squelch of sound, and the ring that had once decorated Sylvestris' hand was now separate, along with his finger.

Sylvestris screamed, and rocked back in his chair, as Mordai grasped the wrist of the mans still bleeding hand, and ground it into the table.

"You will tell me where the caves are." There was magic in his words now, but Sylvestris only blinked with wide and horrified eyes, as his hand groped for Mordai's face. "You will tell me!" Mordai drove the knife down again and pierced the soft and fatty flesh between thumb and pointer finger. His other hand grasped the book in his pocket with enough force to bend its cover, and the compulsion of his words dulled Sylvestris' eyes.

Sylvestris ignored the profuse bleeding of his hand and looked up to Mordai with a blank and soulless expression. "North, across the dragon spines," he breathed, quiet and gasping.

"More specific," Mordai said, sitting back and wiping blood from his nose, leaving Sylvestris to bleed on the parchment.

"The caves the king visited are in the easternmost peak of the Alswither's, a few miles from the cusp of the Blacktop forest."

Mordai yanked the knife from Sylvestris' hand, and the man did nothing. Compulsion really is my strong-suit, he thought with a sniff. "You didn't look hard enough. Kryrial isn't so stupid to look where there is nothing... you and I shall take a trip." He stood from his desk and unlocked the door to his office.

The guard outside regarded him with weapon half drawn. "The screaming?"

"A matter of no import." Mordai smiled. "Gather me supplies for travel, keep them light, but include a leash, if you would.... and get me a messenger."

The guard nodded, and his footsteps echoed down the hall. Mordai latched the door and turned a sneer on Sylvestris. He pulled a bandage from his drawer and tightly wrapped the man's hand. "We can't have you bleeding out, yet. You could prove useful."

Sylvestris said nothing, staring at the table with copious amounts of his blood with a blank expression.

Mordai pried the bloody parchment free of Sylvestris' hand and dipped a quill in ink. Within a moment he had obscured the important signatures from the document and had shaken free the excess blood. After he took a minute to look it over, he dipped his quill in the ink and scrawled across the whole of it in thick letters.

Denied, he wrote with a smile.

Then he rolled it up, sealed it with the still warm on his desk, and waited for the soldiers to return.

When his messenger arrived, he handed the blood-soaked parchment to the boy, without a hint of unease. "Take this to the Verin View. Deliver it only to the hand of Urgist Van'Damas. If they question you, tell them Sylvestris sends his regards, and do not stay long."

The boy blinked at the blood on the letter, but was quickly away as Mordai flicked a gold coin to him.