Prefect Gabbon's office was smaller than what Valena expected. The room was barely bigger than the Limiren's precinct, although the furnishings were much nicer. Plush carpet from corner to corner, thick velvet curtains draped over the windows, leather chairs adorned with brass buttons. Lucky bastard even had a small bar tucked away to the side, stockpiled with all types of booze in different crystal glass decanters.

Gabbon was sitting at his large mahogany desk when Valena and Rouse entered, thumbing through his Tome. "Go on and take a seat you two." He motioned to the two chairs facing him, not even bothering to look up.

Valena did just that, nearly sinking into the plush leather. Rouse joined beside her. Only then did Gabbon look up at them.

"Sir," Valena said before anyone else had a chance. "I just want to start off by saying how sorry—," Gabbon raised a palm.

"Save it, apprentice." He stood up and motioned over towards the bar. "Drinks?"

Valena gaucked like a fish out of water. "Well...I don't think."

"One for me please," Rouse cut in. "Anything red will do nicely." Gabbon nodded and stepped towards the bar, pouring himself two drinks before settling back into his chair. He handed a glass over to Rouse, filled to the brim with the deepest red Valena had ever seen.

"Ah, a very fine vintage. You flatter me sir." Rouse said after taking a sip. Gabbon took a sip of his own drink, downing the whole thing before setting his glass down as one would a gavel.

"Let me go ahead and start off with," he said, his gaze settling on Valena, "by stating that none of you are in trouble for yesterday's matter."

Valena couldn't help but breathe a deep sigh of relief. Getting sacked in your first month as an apprentice Limiren was not something she wanted brought up in any future employment.

"While the situation is very dire at the moment, what with the political upheaval that St. Friar's assassination has caused, I am not however the type to sack good officers over something that was out of their jurisdiction."

"Thank you sir," Valena said.

"That being said, the situation is still very dire," Gabbon reiterated. "An assassin appearing out of nowhere and murdering Villdesong's blessed Saint of Transfusion in cold blood is simply unheard of. Even worse is that she escaped. The Council will want answers. Sooner, rather than later."

"Could it have been an attack by the Pourrites?" Valena suggested.

"Or the Feracines, or the Devantise. Rot, it could have been our very own Petites for all we know," Gabbon waved his hand as if he were shooing away a fly. "We could guess all day if we wanted too, but we just don't have that kind of time."

"So what are you suggested then?" Rouse asked, smiling behind his glass as if he already knew the answer.

"We need to act now," Gabbon slapped a palm over the table. "We need to find this assassin and bring her to justice before she has any time to prepare an escape." Gabbon leaned down to pull open a drawer before placing a large iron key before Valena and Rouse. "Which is why I'm assigning you two a Kinehound."

Valena blinked at the key, her confusion readily apparent.

"They're trackers," Rouse added. "Like us."

"I was told by Rouse here that you'd recently acquired something from the assassin that could help us with this case." Gabbon pressed. Rouse winked before taking another sip of his drink.

Realization struck Valena like a bolt of lighting. The hair. After everything that had happened yesterday she had completely forgotten about it. Last she remembered, she'd filed the strands away as evidence. Thank the Goddess. Her neurotic tendencies were finally starting to pay off.

Gabbon smiled as if reading her thoughts, "That was smart of you, apprentice. Whether you meant to or not, you've given us the edge we need in hopefully finding this assassin."

"Thank you." Valena said. She didn't really know what else to say. She was expecting a stern lecture and a kick out the door. Not compliments and drinks. Maybe she should have taken the drink after all. Her head was swimming regardless.

"I told you she was resourceful." Rouse said before downing his glass. "It's that River Red blood of hers I tell you."

"A blessing that the Limirens will not take lightly." Gabbon added.

"Please," Valena cut in before her ego could be inflated anymore. "I'm simply just doing my solemn duty. We should focus on the task at hand."

Rouse chuckled. "See she's humble too. But, my apprentice here does have a point. Is there anything else sir or should we begin our search?"

Rouse's question made something click in Gabbon's head. "There is one more thing," He added before reaching under the table once more. He procured a long rectangular box, inscribed with holy texts and wards. Procuring a key from around his neck, he released the lock and slowly opened the case. "The assassin has proven herself both capable and extremely dangerous. Given the circumstance I am also assigning you The Razor."

Valena felt her eyes boggle. The Razor was entombed in velvet within the case. The chromatic blade, barely the length of a shortsword, gleamed every shade of color known to man. The grip on the other hand was pure darkness, rigged and made of a similar material as the blade. The pommel was fashioned with a blood diamond, designed in the shape of a teardrop.

She felt herself drawn to it, as if The Razor were calling her. She didn't realize she was leaning over to grab it before Gabbon shut the lid, snapping her from her trance.

"While I appreciate your enthusiasm," Gabbon said, sliding the box over to Rouse. "This is not for you. File a few more notches in your belt first apprentice and then we'll see if your fit to wield this blade."

"Yes," Valena felt her cheeks beginning to burn. "Of course sir."

"Unfortunately, this is the last of my surprises." Gabbon concluded, wiping his hands against his coat. "Report to the Kennel Master for your assigned hound."

"Yes sir," Valena and Rouse signed off before standing up. Rouse scooped up the case in his arms before leaving. Valena made one final salute, which Gabbon returned with a nod, before she followed Rouse out.

*

"What the rot was that all about?" Valena said, stomping after Rouse. The man looked over, a crooked smile etched over that mess of a beard he had.

"What's wrong? I thought you'd enjoy the compliment Gabbon gave you. He's right you know. You are quite resourceful for an apprentice."

"Friar is dead. The assassin escaped. That doesn't deserve compliments and drinks, Rouse!"

Rouse laughed, his voice carrying into the meeting room as he descended the stairs. "And Prefect Gabbon has given us the tools necessary to fix our mistakes."

"A Kinehound I expected," Valena threw up her hands. "But not the bloody damned Razor of all things."

"Gabbon needs this case solved quickly, Valena." Rouse took on a serious tone this time. "Honestly, you need to learn to read the room sometimes."

Valena tailed after Rouse down the stairs. "What are you talking about?"

"You remember what Gabbon said right? About the Councilmen wanting answers sooner rather than later."

"Well, yes I remember that part."

"And do you remember what drink he gave me?"

Valena didn't know whether to entertain Rouse's questions or simply kick the man in the ass. "It was something red. And dark."

"It was dead man's wine."

Valena felt her blood freeze. "That's the stuff they give to prisoners before execution, isn't it?"

"Uh-huh," Rouse agreed. "Gabbon may be a hard ass, but he's not the one to pass down idle threats from the chain of command. Not his style." Rouse turned to Valena at the bottom of the stairs. There was something in his eyes, something that sent a chill down her spine next. "Make no mistake though, the death of St. Friar has a lot of people shook up. Important people. Like the Council. And if they don't get their answer soon, then they'll want a scapegoat. Like me," Rouse jabbed a finger at her. "Or you."

*

The Kinehound's kennel was sweltering inside, made worse by the humidity dragged in by the rain storm outside. Valena tugged at her stiff collar, trying her best to stay alert in the hot, muggy air.

And Goddess above it stank too high hell as well. Even with all the mucking boys running up and down the cages the place still reeked of rotten meat and rotten shit. Not that the Kennel Master noticed. On the account that he had no nose.

"So wij wan did Gabbon assign to you?" The Kennel Master asked as he guided Valena and Rouse down the long line of cages. Rouse handed the man his Tome. After a few swipes of the finger he smiled, revealing a row of crooked yellow teeth.

"Aaah Sniffah! Thabs a good hund right there. Bess of the bess." The Kennel Master scratched at the edges of his prosthetic nose. "He's ribe over here." The cage they stopped at was large and square, big enough for a normal sized dog to move around comfortably in. Straw littered the dirt floor, along with a few items Valena could only assume were toys. In the far back of the cage was a wooden shed where the Kinehound slept.

The Kennel Master held two fingers to his mouth and blew a sharp note. "Come heah Sniffah! Heah boi!"

Rouse leaned over to Valena. "You ever seen a Kinehound before kid?"

"Not really. Only ever really heard of them. Why?" Valena asked. She could only assume it was some type of hound. It was in the name after all.

"Oh, this is gonna be good," Rouse chuckled much to Valena's bemusement. She turned her attention back to the kennel and froze. The head that was poking out of the shed was far from being any type of hound. To start with, most hounds did not have six eyes. The Kinehound did though and all six were trained on her.

More of the Kinehound crept out of the kennel reinforcing Valena's point that whoever had named the thing truly had no idea what hounds actually looked like. Most hounds had fur, not scales. Most hounds only had four legs, not eight. Most hounds had normal sized necks, not a meter fucking long. Everything that a hound was the Kinehound most certainly was not.

Sniffer, as the Kennel Master called him, sniffed and chirped as it drew closer to the cages end. "Thas a good boi." The Kennel Master said. He leaned down, fished a piece of jerky from his pocket and held it up in his hand. "Now come heah. Ol' Gabbon's goht a jawb for ya."

Sniffer froze in his tracks at the sight of the cured meat. The scales around his neck rippled all the way down to the tip of his tail. A low gurgle began to emanate from his throat.

"Oh yeah. Sniffah's good and hungry now. Ya got thah bait?" The Kennel Master asked Valena.

"Bait?"

"The hair." Rouse reminded her.

"Oh, right." Valena fished what she needed out of her satchel. The moment she pulled out the hair, Sniffer snapped his attention over to her again. His nose slits twitched furiously as he drew closer and closer to the edge of the cage.

"Go on now," The Kennel Master said. "Toss it in." Valena did just so. The moment the bundle of hair hit the floor, Sniffer was upon it in a flash. His neck craned as he scooped up the hair in his mouth, gobbling it down before Valena had a chance to register what had just happened.

"He...he ate it." Valena said. "Was he supposed to do that?"

"Corse." The Kennel Master stood back up, smiling like a proud father. "How else is he suppos to get the scent?"

"By sniffing it. As his name implies."

That set the Kennel Master laughing. "Oh girly," The man wiped a tear from his eye. "You're truly some kind of blue blood or somthin. You from the cuntry?"

Valena glared at him. "I am." That wiped the smirk off his face. The Kennel Master hemmed and hawed for a bit, most likely to buy time so he could pull the foot from his mouth.

Rouse luckily stepped in before it could get any more awkward. "Unfortunately my good man we are all out of time discussing places of origin. Would you kindly get our Kinehound here saddled up and ready? We're on a strict schedule here."

"Yes. Gud Gud," The Kennel Master licked his lips as he put two and two together. "I'll get right on thah. You can go wait outsie while I get Sniffah here hooked uhp."

Outside the thunder was rolling in earnest. People were milling about at a fervent pace in the streets, doing whatever it was needed doing before heading home. Valena noticed a few though that were struggling. They moved sluggishly, coughing up black that stained their lips. One collapsed on the ground suddenly. The rest gave them a wide berth, to week or scared to help. Poor bastards.

Goddess above,  but it was taking awhile for the Kennel Master to finish up. Just enough time to finally coax Valena into talking again. "Thanks. By the way."

"For what?" Rouse asked, cocking his usual shit eating grin.

"For changing the subject back there," Valena said, teasing at one of the leather patches on her coat. "I never should of told him I was countryfolk. People like him seem to get all weird about it."

"People like him?"

"You know," Valena felt the heat creeping up her neck. "City people."

"Yeah well," Rouse leaned up against a support post, eyes staring distantly off into the city skyline. "People round here are born believing in a certain way of things. They think transfusions and tinctures are the only way they'll be saved from the Rot. Anyone who thinks otherwise is either ignorant or a filthy heathen. I wouldn't take it to heart though. Most of the time they're just scared."

"Are you scared?" Valena asked.

Rouse mulled that one over before he answered her. "Yes. Maybe. I don't know. I've seen what the Rot can do to people. And I've seen St. Friar's blood transfusions save them. And yet I've met countryfolk who don't need it. They live happy, healthy lives on the outskirts of the city. Scraping in the dirt. Working the fields. Fit as a fiddle." Rouse pulled his tricorn hat on a little tighter as the rains began to pour in earnest. "I just don't know Valena, and I think that's what scares me most."